diff --git a/count.txt b/count.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..92ca216
--- /dev/null
+++ b/count.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11254 @@
+  出现:915次
+a  出现:2998次
+abandon  出现:2次
+abase  出现:1次
+abate  出现:3次
+abated  出现:1次
+abbey  出现:1次
+abbot  出现:4次
+abed  出现:1次
+abel  出现:1次
+abet  出现:1次
+abhor  出现:3次
+abhorr  出现:5次
+abhorred  出现:2次
+abhorring  出现:1次
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+abhorson  出现:16次
+abide  出现:9次
+abides  出现:3次
+abilities  出现:1次
+ability  出现:3次
+abject  出现:1次
+abjects  出现:1次
+abjured  出现:1次
+able  出现:11次
+aboard  出现:10次
+abode  出现:2次
+abodements  出现:1次
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+abominable  出现:2次
+abortive  出现:2次
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+abroach  出现:2次
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+absent  出现:11次
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+abstains  出现:1次
+abstinence  出现:2次
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+abundant  出现:2次
+abundantly  出现:1次
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+abuses  出现:3次
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+accents  出现:2次
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+acceptance  出现:2次
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+accessary  出现:1次
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+acquaintance  出现:3次
+acquainted  出现:6次
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+acquittance  出现:1次
+acre  出现:2次
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+added  出现:4次
+adder  出现:3次
+adders  出现:2次
+adding  出现:2次
+addition  出现:2次
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+adieu  出现:21次
+adjacent  出现:1次
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+agamemnon  出现:1次
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+agued  出现:1次
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+air  出现:43次
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+ajax  出现:1次
+al  出现:1次
+alabaster  出现:1次
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+alacrity  出现:1次
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+alarums  出现:2次
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+alcides  出现:1次
+alderman  出现:1次
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+alehouse  出现:1次
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+annoy  出现:2次
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+anon  出现:26次
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diff --git a/shakespeare.txt b/shakespeare.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7dcb3a2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/shakespeare.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,40000 @@
+First Citizen:
+Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.
+
+All:
+Speak, speak.
+
+First Citizen:
+You are all resolved rather to die than to famish?
+
+All:
+Resolved. resolved.
+
+First Citizen:
+First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people.
+
+All:
+We know't, we know't.
+
+First Citizen:
+Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price.
+Is't a verdict?
+
+All:
+No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away!
+
+Second Citizen:
+One word, good citizens.
+
+First Citizen:
+We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good.
+What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if they
+would yield us but the superfluity, while it were
+wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely;
+but they think we are too dear: the leanness that
+afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an
+inventory to particularise their abundance; our
+sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with
+our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I
+speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius?
+
+All:
+Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Consider you what services he has done for his country?
+
+First Citizen:
+Very well; and could be content to give him good
+report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Nay, but speak not maliciously.
+
+First Citizen:
+I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did
+it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be
+content to say it was for his country he did it to
+please his mother and to be partly proud; which he
+is, even till the altitude of his virtue.
+
+Second Citizen:
+What he cannot help in his nature, you account a
+vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous.
+
+First Citizen:
+If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations;
+he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition.
+What shouts are these? The other side o' the city
+is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol!
+
+All:
+Come, come.
+
+First Citizen:
+Soft! who comes here?
+
+Second Citizen:
+Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved
+the people.
+
+First Citizen:
+He's one honest enough: would all the rest were so!
+
+MENENIUS:
+What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you
+With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you.
+
+First Citizen:
+Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have
+had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do,
+which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor
+suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we
+have strong arms too.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours,
+Will you undo yourselves?
+
+First Citizen:
+We cannot, sir, we are undone already.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I tell you, friends, most charitable care
+Have the patricians of you. For your wants,
+Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well
+Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them
+Against the Roman state, whose course will on
+The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs
+Of more strong link asunder than can ever
+Appear in your impediment. For the dearth,
+The gods, not the patricians, make it, and
+Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack,
+You are transported by calamity
+Thither where more attends you, and you slander
+The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers,
+When you curse them as enemies.
+
+First Citizen:
+Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us
+yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses
+crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to
+support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act
+established against the rich, and provide more
+piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain
+the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and
+there's all the love they bear us.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Either you must
+Confess yourselves wondrous malicious,
+Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you
+A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it;
+But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture
+To stale 't a little more.
+
+First Citizen:
+Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to
+fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an 't please
+you, deliver.
+
+MENENIUS:
+There was a time when all the body's members
+Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it:
+That only like a gulf it did remain
+I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive,
+Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing
+Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments
+Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel,
+And, mutually participate, did minister
+Unto the appetite and affection common
+Of the whole body. The belly answer'd--
+
+First Citizen:
+Well, sir, what answer made the belly?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile,
+Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus--
+For, look you, I may make the belly smile
+As well as speak--it tauntingly replied
+To the discontented members, the mutinous parts
+That envied his receipt; even so most fitly
+As you malign our senators for that
+They are not such as you.
+
+First Citizen:
+Your belly's answer? What!
+The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye,
+The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier,
+Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter.
+With other muniments and petty helps
+In this our fabric, if that they--
+
+MENENIUS:
+What then?
+'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then?
+
+First Citizen:
+Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd,
+Who is the sink o' the body,--
+
+MENENIUS:
+Well, what then?
+
+First Citizen:
+The former agents, if they did complain,
+What could the belly answer?
+
+MENENIUS:
+I will tell you
+If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little--
+Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer.
+
+First Citizen:
+Ye're long about it.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Note me this, good friend;
+Your most grave belly was deliberate,
+Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd:
+'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he,
+'That I receive the general food at first,
+Which you do live upon; and fit it is,
+Because I am the store-house and the shop
+Of the whole body: but, if you do remember,
+I send it through the rivers of your blood,
+Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain;
+And, through the cranks and offices of man,
+The strongest nerves and small inferior veins
+From me receive that natural competency
+Whereby they live: and though that all at once,
+You, my good friends,'--this says the belly, mark me,--
+
+First Citizen:
+Ay, sir; well, well.
+
+MENENIUS:
+'Though all at once cannot
+See what I do deliver out to each,
+Yet I can make my audit up, that all
+From me do back receive the flour of all,
+And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't?
+
+First Citizen:
+It was an answer: how apply you this?
+
+MENENIUS:
+The senators of Rome are this good belly,
+And you the mutinous members; for examine
+Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly
+Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find
+No public benefit which you receive
+But it proceeds or comes from them to you
+And no way from yourselves. What do you think,
+You, the great toe of this assembly?
+
+First Citizen:
+I the great toe! why the great toe?
+
+MENENIUS:
+For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest,
+Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost:
+Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run,
+Lead'st first to win some vantage.
+But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs:
+Rome and her rats are at the point of battle;
+The one side must have bale.
+Hail, noble Marcius!
+
+MARCIUS:
+Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues,
+That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
+Make yourselves scabs?
+
+First Citizen:
+We have ever your good word.
+
+MARCIUS:
+He that will give good words to thee will flatter
+Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs,
+That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you,
+The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you,
+Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
+Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no,
+Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
+Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is
+To make him worthy whose offence subdues him
+And curse that justice did it.
+Who deserves greatness
+Deserves your hate; and your affections are
+A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
+Which would increase his evil. He that depends
+Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
+And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye?
+With every minute you do change a mind,
+And call him noble that was now your hate,
+Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter,
+That in these several places of the city
+You cry against the noble senate, who,
+Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else
+Would feed on one another? What's their seeking?
+
+MENENIUS:
+For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say,
+The city is well stored.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Hang 'em! They say!
+They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know
+What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise,
+Who thrives and who declines; side factions
+and give out
+Conjectural marriages; making parties strong
+And feebling such as stand not in their liking
+Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's
+grain enough!
+Would the nobility lay aside their ruth,
+And let me use my sword, I'll make a quarry
+With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high
+As I could pick my lance.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded;
+For though abundantly they lack discretion,
+Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you,
+What says the other troop?
+
+MARCIUS:
+They are dissolved: hang 'em!
+They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs,
+That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat,
+That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not
+Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds
+They vented their complainings; which being answer'd,
+And a petition granted them, a strange one--
+To break the heart of generosity,
+And make bold power look pale--they threw their caps
+As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon,
+Shouting their emulation.
+
+MENENIUS:
+What is granted them?
+
+MARCIUS:
+Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms,
+Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus,
+Sicinius Velutus, and I know not--'Sdeath!
+The rabble should have first unroof'd the city,
+Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time
+Win upon power and throw forth greater themes
+For insurrection's arguing.
+
+MENENIUS:
+This is strange.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Go, get you home, you fragments!
+
+Messenger:
+Where's Caius Marcius?
+
+MARCIUS:
+Here: what's the matter?
+
+Messenger:
+The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms.
+
+MARCIUS:
+I am glad on 't: then we shall ha' means to vent
+Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders.
+
+First Senator:
+Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us;
+The Volsces are in arms.
+
+MARCIUS:
+They have a leader,
+Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't.
+I sin in envying his nobility,
+And were I any thing but what I am,
+I would wish me only he.
+
+COMINIUS:
+You have fought together.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Were half to half the world by the ears and he.
+Upon my party, I'ld revolt to make
+Only my wars with him: he is a lion
+That I am proud to hunt.
+
+First Senator:
+Then, worthy Marcius,
+Attend upon Cominius to these wars.
+
+COMINIUS:
+It is your former promise.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Sir, it is;
+And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou
+Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face.
+What, art thou stiff? stand'st out?
+
+TITUS:
+No, Caius Marcius;
+I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other,
+Ere stay behind this business.
+
+MENENIUS:
+O, true-bred!
+
+First Senator:
+Your company to the Capitol; where, I know,
+Our greatest friends attend us.
+
+TITUS:
+
+COMINIUS:
+Noble Marcius!
+
+First Senator:
+
+MARCIUS:
+Nay, let them follow:
+The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither
+To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners,
+Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius?
+
+BRUTUS:
+He has no equal.
+
+SICINIUS:
+When we were chosen tribunes for the people,--
+
+BRUTUS:
+Mark'd you his lip and eyes?
+
+SICINIUS:
+Nay. but his taunts.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Be-mock the modest moon.
+
+BRUTUS:
+The present wars devour him: he is grown
+Too proud to be so valiant.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Such a nature,
+Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow
+Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder
+His insolence can brook to be commanded
+Under Cominius.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Fame, at the which he aims,
+In whom already he's well graced, can not
+Better be held nor more attain'd than by
+A place below the first: for what miscarries
+Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
+To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure
+Will then cry out of Marcius 'O if he
+Had borne the business!'
+
+SICINIUS:
+Besides, if things go well,
+Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall
+Of his demerits rob Cominius.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Come:
+Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius.
+Though Marcius earned them not, and all his faults
+To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed
+In aught he merit not.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Let's hence, and hear
+How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion,
+More than his singularity, he goes
+Upon this present action.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Lets along.
+
+First Senator:
+So, your opinion is, Aufidius,
+That they of Rome are entered in our counsels
+And know how we proceed.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Is it not yours?
+What ever have been thought on in this state,
+That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome
+Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone
+Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think
+I have the letter here; yes, here it is.
+'They have press'd a power, but it is not known
+Whether for east or west: the dearth is great;
+The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd,
+Cominius, Marcius your old enemy,
+Who is of Rome worse hated than of you,
+And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman,
+These three lead on this preparation
+Whither 'tis bent: most likely 'tis for you:
+Consider of it.'
+
+First Senator:
+Our army's in the field
+We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready
+To answer us.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Nor did you think it folly
+To keep your great pretences veil'd till when
+They needs must show themselves; which
+in the hatching,
+It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery.
+We shall be shorten'd in our aim, which was
+To take in many towns ere almost Rome
+Should know we were afoot.
+
+Second Senator:
+Noble Aufidius,
+Take your commission; hie you to your bands:
+Let us alone to guard Corioli:
+If they set down before 's, for the remove
+Bring your army; but, I think, you'll find
+They've not prepared for us.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+O, doubt not that;
+I speak from certainties. Nay, more,
+Some parcels of their power are forth already,
+And only hitherward. I leave your honours.
+If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet,
+'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike
+Till one can do no more.
+
+All:
+The gods assist you!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+And keep your honours safe!
+
+First Senator:
+Farewell.
+
+Second Senator:
+Farewell.
+
+All:
+Farewell.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a
+more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I
+should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he
+won honour than in the embracements of his bed where
+he would show most love. When yet he was but
+tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when
+youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when
+for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not
+sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering
+how honour would become such a person. that it was
+no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if
+renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek
+danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel
+war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows
+bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not
+more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child
+than now in first seeing he had proved himself a
+man.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+But had he died in the business, madam; how then?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Then his good report should have been my son; I
+therein would have found issue. Hear me profess
+sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love
+alike and none less dear than thine and my good
+Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their
+country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
+
+Gentlewoman:
+Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Indeed, you shall not.
+Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum,
+See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair,
+As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him:
+Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus:
+'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear,
+Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow
+With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes,
+Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow
+Or all or lose his hire.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Away, you fool! it more becomes a man
+Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba,
+When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier
+Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood
+At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria,
+We are fit to bid her welcome.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
+And tread upon his neck.
+
+VALERIA:
+My ladies both, good day to you.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Sweet madam.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+I am glad to see your ladyship.
+
+VALERIA:
+How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers.
+What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good
+faith. How does your little son?
+
+VIRGILIA:
+I thank your ladyship; well, good madam.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than
+look upon his school-master.
+
+VALERIA:
+O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear,'tis a
+very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o'
+Wednesday half an hour together: has such a
+confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded
+butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go
+again; and after it again; and over and over he
+comes, and again; catched it again; or whether his
+fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his
+teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he mammocked
+it!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+One on 's father's moods.
+
+VALERIA:
+Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+A crack, madam.
+
+VALERIA:
+Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play
+the idle husewife with me this afternoon.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+No, good madam; I will not out of doors.
+
+VALERIA:
+Not out of doors!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+She shall, she shall.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the
+threshold till my lord return from the wars.
+
+VALERIA:
+Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come,
+you must go visit the good lady that lies in.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with
+my prayers; but I cannot go thither.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Why, I pray you?
+
+VIRGILIA:
+'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love.
+
+VALERIA:
+You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all
+the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill
+Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric
+were sensible as your finger, that you might leave
+pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth.
+
+VALERIA:
+In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you
+excellent news of your husband.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+O, good madam, there can be none yet.
+
+VALERIA:
+Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from
+him last night.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+Indeed, madam?
+
+VALERIA:
+In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it.
+Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against
+whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of
+our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set
+down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt
+prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true,
+on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every
+thing hereafter.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but
+disease our better mirth.
+
+VALERIA:
+In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then.
+Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy
+solemness out o' door. and go along with us.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish
+you much mirth.
+
+VALERIA:
+Well, then, farewell.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Yonder comes news. A wager they have met.
+
+LARTIUS:
+My horse to yours, no.
+
+MARCIUS:
+'Tis done.
+
+LARTIUS:
+Agreed.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Say, has our general met the enemy?
+
+Messenger:
+They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet.
+
+LARTIUS:
+So, the good horse is mine.
+
+MARCIUS:
+I'll buy him of you.
+
+LARTIUS:
+No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will
+For half a hundred years. Summon the town.
+
+MARCIUS:
+How far off lie these armies?
+
+Messenger:
+Within this mile and half.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours.
+Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work,
+That we with smoking swords may march from hence,
+To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast.
+Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls?
+
+First Senator:
+No, nor a man that fears you less than he,
+That's lesser than a little.
+Hark! our drums
+Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls,
+Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates,
+Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes;
+They'll open of themselves.
+Hark you. far off!
+There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes
+Amongst your cloven army.
+
+MARCIUS:
+O, they are at it!
+
+LARTIUS:
+Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho!
+
+MARCIUS:
+They fear us not, but issue forth their city.
+Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight
+With hearts more proof than shields. Advance,
+brave Titus:
+They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts,
+Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows:
+He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce,
+And he shall feel mine edge.
+
+MARCIUS:
+All the contagion of the south light on you,
+You shames of Rome! you herd of--Boils and plagues
+Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd
+Further than seen and one infect another
+Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese,
+That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
+From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell!
+All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale
+With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home,
+Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe
+And make my wars on you: look to't: come on;
+If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,
+As they us to our trenches followed.
+So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds:
+'Tis for the followers fortune widens them,
+Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like.
+
+First Soldier:
+Fool-hardiness; not I.
+
+Second Soldier:
+Nor I.
+
+First Soldier:
+See, they have shut him in.
+
+All:
+To the pot, I warrant him.
+
+LARTIUS:
+What is become of Marcius?
+
+All:
+Slain, sir, doubtless.
+
+First Soldier:
+Following the fliers at the very heels,
+With them he enters; who, upon the sudden,
+Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone,
+To answer all the city.
+
+LARTIUS:
+O noble fellow!
+Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword,
+And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius:
+A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art,
+Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier
+Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible
+Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and
+The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds,
+Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world
+Were feverous and did tremble.
+
+First Soldier:
+Look, sir.
+
+LARTIUS:
+O,'tis Marcius!
+Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.
+
+First Roman:
+This will I carry to Rome.
+
+Second Roman:
+And I this.
+
+Third Roman:
+A murrain on't! I took this for silver.
+
+MARCIUS:
+See here these movers that do prize their hours
+At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons,
+Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would
+Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves,
+Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them!
+And hark, what noise the general makes! To him!
+There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius,
+Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take
+Convenient numbers to make good the city;
+Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste
+To help Cominius.
+
+LARTIUS:
+Worthy sir, thou bleed'st;
+Thy exercise hath been too violent for
+A second course of fight.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Sir, praise me not;
+My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well:
+The blood I drop is rather physical
+Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus
+I will appear, and fight.
+
+LARTIUS:
+Now the fair goddess, Fortune,
+Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms
+Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman,
+Prosperity be thy page!
+
+MARCIUS:
+Thy friend no less
+Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell.
+
+LARTIUS:
+Thou worthiest Marcius!
+Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
+Call thither all the officers o' the town,
+Where they shall know our mind: away!
+
+COMINIUS:
+Breathe you, my friends: well fought;
+we are come off
+Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
+Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs,
+We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck,
+By interims and conveying gusts we have heard
+The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods!
+Lead their successes as we wish our own,
+That both our powers, with smiling
+fronts encountering,
+May give you thankful sacrifice.
+Thy news?
+
+Messenger:
+The citizens of Corioli have issued,
+And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle:
+I saw our party to their trenches driven,
+And then I came away.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Though thou speak'st truth,
+Methinks thou speak'st not well.
+How long is't since?
+
+Messenger:
+Above an hour, my lord.
+
+COMINIUS:
+'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums:
+How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour,
+And bring thy news so late?
+
+Messenger:
+Spies of the Volsces
+Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel
+Three or four miles about, else had I, sir,
+Half an hour since brought my report.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Who's yonder,
+That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods
+He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have
+Before-time seen him thus.
+
+MARCIUS:
+
+COMINIUS:
+The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour
+More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
+From every meaner man.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Come I too late?
+
+COMINIUS:
+Ay, if you come not in the blood of others,
+But mantled in your own.
+
+MARCIUS:
+O, let me clip ye
+In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart
+As merry as when our nuptial day was done,
+And tapers burn'd to bedward!
+
+COMINIUS:
+Flower of warriors,
+How is it with Titus Lartius?
+
+MARCIUS:
+As with a man busied about decrees:
+Condemning some to death, and some to exile;
+Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other;
+Holding Corioli in the name of Rome,
+Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash,
+To let him slip at will.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Where is that slave
+Which told me they had beat you to your trenches?
+Where is he? call him hither.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Let him alone;
+He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen,
+The common file--a plague! tribunes for them!--
+The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge
+From rascals worse than they.
+
+COMINIUS:
+But how prevail'd you?
+
+MARCIUS:
+Will the time serve to tell? I do not think.
+Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field?
+If not, why cease you till you are so?
+
+COMINIUS:
+Marcius,
+We have at disadvantage fought and did
+Retire to win our purpose.
+
+MARCIUS:
+How lies their battle? know you on which side
+They have placed their men of trust?
+
+COMINIUS:
+As I guess, Marcius,
+Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates,
+Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius,
+Their very heart of hope.
+
+MARCIUS:
+I do beseech you,
+By all the battles wherein we have fought,
+By the blood we have shed together, by the vows
+We have made to endure friends, that you directly
+Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates;
+And that you not delay the present, but,
+Filling the air with swords advanced and darts,
+We prove this very hour.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Though I could wish
+You were conducted to a gentle bath
+And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never
+Deny your asking: take your choice of those
+That best can aid your action.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Those are they
+That most are willing. If any such be here--
+As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting
+Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear
+Lesser his person than an ill report;
+If any think brave death outweighs bad life
+And that his country's dearer than himself;
+Let him alone, or so many so minded,
+Wave thus, to express his disposition,
+And follow Marcius.
+O, me alone! make you a sword of me?
+If these shows be not outward, which of you
+But is four Volsces? none of you but is
+Able to bear against the great Aufidius
+A shield as hard as his. A certain number,
+Though thanks to all, must I select
+from all: the rest
+Shall bear the business in some other fight,
+As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march;
+And four shall quickly draw out my command,
+Which men are best inclined.
+
+COMINIUS:
+March on, my fellows:
+Make good this ostentation, and you shall
+Divide in all with us.
+
+LARTIUS:
+So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties,
+As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch
+Those centuries to our aid: the rest will serve
+For a short holding: if we lose the field,
+We cannot keep the town.
+
+Lieutenant:
+Fear not our care, sir.
+
+LARTIUS:
+Hence, and shut your gates upon's.
+Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us.
+
+MARCIUS:
+I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee
+Worse than a promise-breaker.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+We hate alike:
+Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor
+More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Let the first budger die the other's slave,
+And the gods doom him after!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+If I fly, Marcius,
+Holloa me like a hare.
+
+MARCIUS:
+Within these three hours, Tullus,
+Alone I fought in your Corioli walls,
+And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood
+Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge
+Wrench up thy power to the highest.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Wert thou the Hector
+That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny,
+Thou shouldst not scape me here.
+Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me
+In your condemned seconds.
+
+COMINIUS:
+If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work,
+Thou'ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it
+Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles,
+Where great patricians shall attend and shrug,
+I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted,
+And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the
+dull tribunes,
+That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours,
+Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods
+Our Rome hath such a soldier.'
+Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast,
+Having fully dined before.
+
+LARTIUS:
+O general,
+Here is the steed, we the caparison:
+Hadst thou beheld--
+
+MARCIUS:
+Pray now, no more: my mother,
+Who has a charter to extol her blood,
+When she does praise me grieves me. I have done
+As you have done; that's what I can; induced
+As you have been; that's for my country:
+He that has but effected his good will
+Hath overta'en mine act.
+
+COMINIUS:
+You shall not be
+The grave of your deserving; Rome must know
+The value of her own: 'twere a concealment
+Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement,
+To hide your doings; and to silence that,
+Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd,
+Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you
+In sign of what you are, not to reward
+What you have done--before our army hear me.
+
+MARCIUS:
+I have some wounds upon me, and they smart
+To hear themselves remember'd.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Should they not,
+Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude,
+And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses,
+Whereof we have ta'en good and good store, of all
+The treasure in this field achieved and city,
+We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth,
+Before the common distribution, at
+Your only choice.
+
+MARCIUS:
+I thank you, general;
+But cannot make my heart consent to take
+A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it;
+And stand upon my common part with those
+That have beheld the doing.
+
+MARCIUS:
+May these same instruments, which you profane,
+Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall
+I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be
+Made all of false-faced soothing!
+When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk,
+Let him be made a coverture for the wars!
+No more, I say! For that I have not wash'd
+My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.--
+Which, without note, here's many else have done,--
+You shout me forth
+In acclamations hyperbolical;
+As if I loved my little should be dieted
+In praises sauced with lies.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Too modest are you;
+More cruel to your good report than grateful
+To us that give you truly: by your patience,
+If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you,
+Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles,
+Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known,
+As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius
+Wears this war's garland: in token of the which,
+My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him,
+With all his trim belonging; and from this time,
+For what he did before Corioli, call him,
+With all the applause and clamour of the host,
+CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear
+The addition nobly ever!
+
+All:
+Caius Marcius Coriolanus!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I will go wash;
+And when my face is fair, you shall perceive
+Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you.
+I mean to stride your steed, and at all times
+To undercrest your good addition
+To the fairness of my power.
+
+COMINIUS:
+So, to our tent;
+Where, ere we do repose us, we will write
+To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius,
+Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome
+The best, with whom we may articulate,
+For their own good and ours.
+
+LARTIUS:
+I shall, my lord.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+The gods begin to mock me. I, that now
+Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg
+Of my lord general.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Take't; 'tis yours. What is't?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I sometime lay here in Corioli
+At a poor man's house; he used me kindly:
+He cried to me; I saw him prisoner;
+But then Aufidius was within my view,
+And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you
+To give my poor host freedom.
+
+COMINIUS:
+O, well begg'd!
+Were he the butcher of my son, he should
+Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus.
+
+LARTIUS:
+Marcius, his name?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+By Jupiter! forgot.
+I am weary; yea, my memory is tired.
+Have we no wine here?
+
+COMINIUS:
+Go we to our tent:
+The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time
+It should be look'd to: come.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+The town is ta'en!
+
+First Soldier:
+'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Condition!
+I would I were a Roman; for I cannot,
+Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition!
+What good condition can a treaty find
+I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius,
+I have fought with thee: so often hast thou beat me,
+And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter
+As often as we eat. By the elements,
+If e'er again I meet him beard to beard,
+He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation
+Hath not that honour in't it had; for where
+I thought to crush him in an equal force,
+True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way
+Or wrath or craft may get him.
+
+First Soldier:
+He's the devil.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd
+With only suffering stain by him; for him
+Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary,
+Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol,
+The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice,
+Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
+Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
+My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
+At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,
+Against the hospitable canon, would I
+Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city;
+Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must
+Be hostages for Rome.
+
+First Soldier:
+Will not you go?
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you--
+'Tis south the city mills--bring me word thither
+How the world goes, that to the pace of it
+I may spur on my journey.
+
+First Soldier:
+I shall, sir.
+
+MENENIUS:
+The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Good or bad?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Not according to the prayer of the people, for they
+love not Marcius.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Pray you, who does the wolf love?
+
+SICINIUS:
+The lamb.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the
+noble Marcius.
+
+BRUTUS:
+He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear.
+
+MENENIUS:
+He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two
+are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you.
+
+Both:
+Well, sir.
+
+MENENIUS:
+In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two
+have not in abundance?
+
+BRUTUS:
+He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Especially in pride.
+
+BRUTUS:
+And topping all others in boasting.
+
+MENENIUS:
+This is strange now: do you two know how you are
+censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the
+right-hand file? do you?
+
+Both:
+Why, how are we censured?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry?
+
+Both:
+Well, well, sir, well.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of
+occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience:
+give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at
+your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a
+pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for
+being proud?
+
+BRUTUS:
+We do it not alone, sir.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I know you can do very little alone; for your helps
+are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous
+single: your abilities are too infant-like for
+doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you
+could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks,
+and make but an interior survey of your good selves!
+O that you could!
+
+BRUTUS:
+What then, sir?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting,
+proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as
+any in Rome.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Menenius, you are known well enough too.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that
+loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying
+Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in
+favouring the first complaint; hasty and tinder-like
+upon too trivial motion; one that converses more
+with the buttock of the night than with the forehead
+of the morning: what I think I utter, and spend my
+malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as
+you are--I cannot call you Lycurguses--if the drink
+you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a
+crooked face at it. I can't say your worships have
+delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in
+compound with the major part of your syllables: and
+though I must be content to bear with those that say
+you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that
+tell you you have good faces. If you see this in
+the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known
+well enough too? what barm can your bisson
+conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be
+known well enough too?
+
+BRUTUS:
+Come, sir, come, we know you well enough.
+
+MENENIUS:
+You know neither me, yourselves nor any thing. You
+are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you
+wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a
+cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller;
+and then rejourn the controversy of three pence to a
+second day of audience. When you are hearing a
+matter between party and party, if you chance to be
+pinched with the colic, you make faces like
+mummers; set up the bloody flag against all
+patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot,
+dismiss the controversy bleeding the more entangled
+by your hearing: all the peace you make in their
+cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You are
+a pair of strange ones.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Come, come, you are well understood to be a
+perfecter giber for the table than a necessary
+bencher in the Capitol.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall
+encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When
+you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the
+wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not
+so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's
+cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-
+saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud;
+who in a cheap estimation, is worth predecessors
+since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the
+best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to
+your worships: more of your conversation would
+infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly
+plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you.
+How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon,
+were she earthly, no nobler,--whither do you follow
+your eyes so fast?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for
+the love of Juno, let's go.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Ha! Marcius coming home!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous
+approbation.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo!
+Marcius coming home!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Nay,'tis true.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath
+another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one
+at home for you.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I will make my very house reel tonight: a letter for
+me!
+
+VIRGILIA:
+Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't.
+
+MENENIUS:
+A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven
+years' health; in which time I will make a lip at
+the physician: the most sovereign prescription in
+Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative,
+of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he
+not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+O, no, no, no.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't.
+
+MENENIUS:
+So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a'
+victory in his pocket? the wounds become him.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home
+with the oaken garland.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but
+Aufidius got off.
+
+MENENIUS:
+And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that:
+an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so
+fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold
+that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate
+has letters from the general, wherein he gives my
+son the whole name of the war: he hath in this
+action outdone his former deeds doubly
+
+VALERIA:
+In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his
+true purchasing.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+The gods grant them true!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+True! pow, wow.
+
+MENENIUS:
+True! I'll be sworn they are true.
+Where is he wounded?
+God save your good worships! Marcius is coming
+home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+I' the shoulder and i' the left arm there will be
+large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall
+stand for his place. He received in the repulse of
+Tarquin seven hurts i' the body.
+
+MENENIUS:
+One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's
+nine that I know.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five
+wounds upon him.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave.
+Hark! the trumpets.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he
+carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears:
+Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie;
+Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die.
+
+Herald:
+Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight
+Within Corioli gates: where he hath won,
+With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these
+In honour follows Coriolanus.
+Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
+
+All:
+Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+No more of this; it does offend my heart:
+Pray now, no more.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Look, sir, your mother!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+O,
+You have, I know, petition'd all the gods
+For my prosperity!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Nay, my good soldier, up;
+My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and
+By deed-achieving honour newly named,--
+What is it?--Coriolanus must I call thee?--
+But O, thy wife!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+My gracious silence, hail!
+Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home,
+That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear,
+Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear,
+And mothers that lack sons.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Now, the gods crown thee!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+And live you yet?
+O my sweet lady, pardon.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+I know not where to turn: O, welcome home:
+And welcome, general: and ye're welcome all.
+
+MENENIUS:
+A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep
+And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome.
+A curse begin at very root on's heart,
+That is not glad to see thee! You are three
+That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men,
+We have some old crab-trees here
+at home that will not
+Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors:
+We call a nettle but a nettle and
+The faults of fools but folly.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Ever right.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Menenius ever, ever.
+
+Herald:
+Give way there, and go on!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+I have lived
+To see inherited my very wishes
+And the buildings of my fancy: only
+There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but
+Our Rome will cast upon thee.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Know, good mother,
+I had rather be their servant in my way,
+Than sway with them in theirs.
+
+COMINIUS:
+On, to the Capitol!
+
+BRUTUS:
+All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
+Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse
+Into a rapture lets her baby cry
+While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins
+Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
+Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows,
+Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed
+With variable complexions, all agreeing
+In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens
+Do press among the popular throngs and puff
+To win a vulgar station: or veil'd dames
+Commit the war of white and damask in
+Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil
+Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother
+As if that whatsoever god who leads him
+Were slily crept into his human powers
+And gave him graceful posture.
+
+SICINIUS:
+On the sudden,
+I warrant him consul.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Then our office may,
+During his power, go sleep.
+
+SICINIUS:
+He cannot temperately transport his honours
+From where he should begin and end, but will
+Lose those he hath won.
+
+BRUTUS:
+In that there's comfort.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Doubt not
+The commoners, for whom we stand, but they
+Upon their ancient malice will forget
+With the least cause these his new honours, which
+That he will give them make I as little question
+As he is proud to do't.
+
+BRUTUS:
+I heard him swear,
+Were he to stand for consul, never would he
+Appear i' the market-place nor on him put
+The napless vesture of humility;
+Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds
+To the people, beg their stinking breaths.
+
+SICINIUS:
+'Tis right.
+
+BRUTUS:
+It was his word: O, he would miss it rather
+Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him,
+And the desire of the nobles.
+
+SICINIUS:
+I wish no better
+Than have him hold that purpose and to put it
+In execution.
+
+BRUTUS:
+'Tis most like he will.
+
+SICINIUS:
+It shall be to him then as our good wills,
+A sure destruction.
+
+BRUTUS:
+So it must fall out
+To him or our authorities. For an end,
+We must suggest the people in what hatred
+He still hath held them; that to's power he would
+Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and
+Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them,
+In human action and capacity,
+Of no more soul nor fitness for the world
+Than camels in the war, who have their provand
+Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows
+For sinking under them.
+
+SICINIUS:
+This, as you say, suggested
+At some time when his soaring insolence
+Shall touch the people--which time shall not want,
+If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy
+As to set dogs on sheep--will be his fire
+To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze
+Shall darken him for ever.
+
+BRUTUS:
+What's the matter?
+
+Messenger:
+You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought
+That Marcius shall be consul:
+I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and
+The blind to bear him speak: matrons flung gloves,
+Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers,
+Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended,
+As to Jove's statue, and the commons made
+A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts:
+I never saw the like.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Let's to the Capitol;
+And carry with us ears and eyes for the time,
+But hearts for the event.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Have with you.
+
+First Officer:
+Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand
+for consulships?
+
+Second Officer:
+Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one
+Coriolanus will carry it.
+
+First Officer:
+That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and
+loves not the common people.
+
+Second Officer:
+Faith, there had been many great men that have
+flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there
+be many that they have loved, they know not
+wherefore: so that, if they love they know not why,
+they hate upon no better a ground: therefore, for
+Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate
+him manifests the true knowledge he has in their
+disposition; and out of his noble carelessness lets
+them plainly see't.
+
+First Officer:
+If he did not care whether he had their love or no,
+he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither
+good nor harm: but he seeks their hate with greater
+devotion than can render it him; and leaves
+nothing undone that may fully discover him their
+opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and
+displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he
+dislikes, to flatter them for their love.
+
+Second Officer:
+He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his
+ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who,
+having been supple and courteous to the people,
+bonneted, without any further deed to have them at
+an into their estimation and report: but he hath so
+planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions
+in their hearts, that for their tongues to be
+silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of
+ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were a
+malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck
+reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it.
+
+First Officer:
+No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they
+are coming.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Having determined of the Volsces and
+To send for Titus Lartius, it remains,
+As the main point of this our after-meeting,
+To gratify his noble service that
+Hath thus stood for his country: therefore,
+please you,
+Most reverend and grave elders, to desire
+The present consul, and last general
+In our well-found successes, to report
+A little of that worthy work perform'd
+By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom
+We met here both to thank and to remember
+With honours like himself.
+
+First Senator:
+Speak, good Cominius:
+Leave nothing out for length, and make us think
+Rather our state's defective for requital
+Than we to stretch it out.
+Masters o' the people,
+We do request your kindest ears, and after,
+Your loving motion toward the common body,
+To yield what passes here.
+
+SICINIUS:
+We are convented
+Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts
+Inclinable to honour and advance
+The theme of our assembly.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Which the rather
+We shall be blest to do, if he remember
+A kinder value of the people than
+He hath hereto prized them at.
+
+MENENIUS:
+That's off, that's off;
+I would you rather had been silent. Please you
+To hear Cominius speak?
+
+BRUTUS:
+Most willingly;
+But yet my caution was more pertinent
+Than the rebuke you give it.
+
+MENENIUS:
+He loves your people
+But tie him not to be their bedfellow.
+Worthy Cominius, speak.
+Nay, keep your place.
+
+First Senator:
+Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear
+What you have nobly done.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Your horror's pardon:
+I had rather have my wounds to heal again
+Than hear say how I got them.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Sir, I hope
+My words disbench'd you not.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+No, sir: yet oft,
+When blows have made me stay, I fled from words.
+You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but
+your people,
+I love them as they weigh.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Pray now, sit down.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun
+When the alarum were struck than idly sit
+To hear my nothings monster'd.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Masters of the people,
+Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter--
+That's thousand to one good one--when you now see
+He had rather venture all his limbs for honour
+Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius.
+
+COMINIUS:
+I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus
+Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held
+That valour is the chiefest virtue, and
+Most dignifies the haver: if it be,
+The man I speak of cannot in the world
+Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years,
+When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
+Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator,
+Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight,
+When with his Amazonian chin he drove
+The bristled lips before him: be bestrid
+An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the consul's view
+Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met,
+And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats,
+When he might act the woman in the scene,
+He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed
+Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age
+Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea,
+And in the brunt of seventeen battles since
+He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last,
+Before and in Corioli, let me say,
+I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the fliers;
+And by his rare example made the coward
+Turn terror into sport: as weeds before
+A vessel under sail, so men obey'd
+And fell below his stem: his sword, death's stamp,
+Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot
+He was a thing of blood, whose every motion
+Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd
+The mortal gate of the city, which he painted
+With shunless destiny; aidless came off,
+And with a sudden reinforcement struck
+Corioli like a planet: now all's his:
+When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce
+His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit
+Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,
+And to the battle came he; where he did
+Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if
+'Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call'd
+Both field and city ours, he never stood
+To ease his breast with panting.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Worthy man!
+
+First Senator:
+He cannot but with measure fit the honours
+Which we devise him.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Our spoils he kick'd at,
+And look'd upon things precious as they were
+The common muck of the world: he covets less
+Than misery itself would give; rewards
+His deeds with doing them, and is content
+To spend the time to end it.
+
+MENENIUS:
+He's right noble:
+Let him be call'd for.
+
+First Senator:
+Call Coriolanus.
+
+Officer:
+He doth appear.
+
+MENENIUS:
+The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased
+To make thee consul.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I do owe them still
+My life and services.
+
+MENENIUS:
+It then remains
+That you do speak to the people.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I do beseech you,
+Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot
+Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat them,
+For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you
+That I may pass this doing.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Sir, the people
+Must have their voices; neither will they bate
+One jot of ceremony.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Put them not to't:
+Pray you, go fit you to the custom and
+Take to you, as your predecessors have,
+Your honour with your form.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+It is apart
+That I shall blush in acting, and might well
+Be taken from the people.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Mark you that?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus;
+Show them the unaching scars which I should hide,
+As if I had received them for the hire
+Of their breath only!
+
+MENENIUS:
+Do not stand upon't.
+We recommend to you, tribunes of the people,
+Our purpose to them: and to our noble consul
+Wish we all joy and honour.
+
+Senators:
+To Coriolanus come all joy and honour!
+
+BRUTUS:
+You see how he intends to use the people.
+
+SICINIUS:
+May they perceive's intent! He will require them,
+As if he did contemn what he requested
+Should be in them to give.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Come, we'll inform them
+Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace,
+I know, they do attend us.
+
+First Citizen:
+Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him.
+
+Second Citizen:
+We may, sir, if we will.
+
+Third Citizen:
+We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a
+power that we have no power to do; for if he show us
+his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our
+tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if
+he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him
+our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is
+monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful,
+were to make a monster of the multitude: of the
+which we being members, should bring ourselves to be
+monstrous members.
+
+First Citizen:
+And to make us no better thought of, a little help
+will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he
+himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.
+
+Third Citizen:
+We have been called so of many; not that our heads
+are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald,
+but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and
+truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of
+one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south,
+and their consent of one direct way should be at
+once to all the points o' the compass.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would
+fly?
+
+Third Citizen:
+Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's
+will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but
+if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Why that way?
+
+Third Citizen:
+To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts
+melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return
+for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife.
+
+Second Citizen:
+You are never without your tricks: you may, you may.
+
+Third Citizen:
+Are you all resolved to give your voices? But
+that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I
+say, if he would incline to the people, there was
+never a worthier man.
+Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his
+behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to
+come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and
+by threes. He's to make his requests by
+particulars; wherein every one of us has a single
+honour, in giving him our own voices with our own
+tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how
+you shall go by him.
+
+All:
+Content, content.
+
+MENENIUS:
+O sir, you are not right: have you not known
+The worthiest men have done't?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+What must I say?
+'I Pray, sir'--Plague upon't! I cannot bring
+My tongue to such a pace:--'Look, sir, my wounds!
+I got them in my country's service, when
+Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran
+From the noise of our own drums.'
+
+MENENIUS:
+O me, the gods!
+You must not speak of that: you must desire them
+To think upon you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Think upon me! hang 'em!
+I would they would forget me, like the virtues
+Which our divines lose by 'em.
+
+MENENIUS:
+You'll mar all:
+I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you,
+In wholesome manner.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Bid them wash their faces
+And keep their teeth clean.
+So, here comes a brace.
+You know the cause, air, of my standing here.
+
+Third Citizen:
+We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Mine own desert.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Your own desert!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Ay, but not mine own desire.
+
+Third Citizen:
+How not your own desire?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+No, sir,'twas never my desire yet to trouble the
+poor with begging.
+
+Third Citizen:
+You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to
+gain by you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship?
+
+First Citizen:
+The price is to ask it kindly.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to
+show you, which shall be yours in private. Your
+good voice, sir; what say you?
+
+Second Citizen:
+You shall ha' it, worthy sir.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices
+begged. I have your alms: adieu.
+
+Third Citizen:
+But this is something odd.
+
+Second Citizen:
+An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your
+voices that I may be consul, I have here the
+customary gown.
+
+Fourth Citizen:
+You have deserved nobly of your country, and you
+have not deserved nobly.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Your enigma?
+
+Fourth Citizen:
+You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have
+been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved
+the common people.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+You should account me the more virtuous that I have
+not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my
+sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer
+estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account
+gentle: and since the wisdom of their choice is
+rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise
+the insinuating nod and be off to them most
+counterfeitly; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the
+bewitchment of some popular man and give it
+bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you,
+I may be consul.
+
+Fifth Citizen:
+We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give
+you our voices heartily.
+
+Fourth Citizen:
+You have received many wounds for your country.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I
+will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further.
+
+Both Citizens:
+The gods give you joy, sir, heartily!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Most sweet voices!
+Better it is to die, better to starve,
+Than crave the hire which first we do deserve.
+Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here,
+To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear,
+Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't:
+What custom wills, in all things should we do't,
+The dust on antique time would lie unswept,
+And mountainous error be too highly heapt
+For truth to o'er-peer. Rather than fool it so,
+Let the high office and the honour go
+To one that would do thus. I am half through;
+The one part suffer'd, the other will I do.
+Here come more voices.
+Your voices: for your voices I have fought;
+Watch'd for your voices; for Your voices bear
+Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six
+I have seen and heard of; for your voices have
+Done many things, some less, some more your voices:
+Indeed I would be consul.
+
+Sixth Citizen:
+He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest
+man's voice.
+
+Seventh Citizen:
+Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy,
+and make him good friend to the people!
+
+All Citizens:
+Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Worthy voices!
+
+MENENIUS:
+You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes
+Endue you with the people's voice: remains
+That, in the official marks invested, you
+Anon do meet the senate.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Is this done?
+
+SICINIUS:
+The custom of request you have discharged:
+The people do admit you, and are summon'd
+To meet anon, upon your approbation.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Where? at the senate-house?
+
+SICINIUS:
+There, Coriolanus.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+May I change these garments?
+
+SICINIUS:
+You may, sir.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again,
+Repair to the senate-house.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I'll keep you company. Will you along?
+
+BRUTUS:
+We stay here for the people.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Fare you well.
+He has it now, and by his looks methink
+'Tis warm at 's heart.
+
+BRUTUS:
+With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds.
+will you dismiss the people?
+
+SICINIUS:
+How now, my masters! have you chose this man?
+
+First Citizen:
+He has our voices, sir.
+
+BRUTUS:
+We pray the gods he may deserve your loves.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice,
+He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices.
+
+Third Citizen:
+Certainly
+He flouted us downright.
+
+First Citizen:
+No,'tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says
+He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us
+His marks of merit, wounds received for's country.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Why, so he did, I am sure.
+
+Citizens:
+No, no; no man saw 'em.
+
+Third Citizen:
+He said he had wounds, which he could show
+in private;
+And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn,
+'I would be consul,' says he: 'aged custom,
+But by your voices, will not so permit me;
+Your voices therefore.' When we granted that,
+Here was 'I thank you for your voices: thank you:
+Your most sweet voices: now you have left
+your voices,
+I have no further with you.' Was not this mockery?
+
+SICINIUS:
+Why either were you ignorant to see't,
+Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness
+To yield your voices?
+
+BRUTUS:
+Could you not have told him
+As you were lesson'd, when he had no power,
+But was a petty servant to the state,
+He was your enemy, ever spake against
+Your liberties and the charters that you bear
+I' the body of the weal; and now, arriving
+A place of potency and sway o' the state,
+If he should still malignantly remain
+Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might
+Be curses to yourselves? You should have said
+That as his worthy deeds did claim no less
+Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature
+Would think upon you for your voices and
+Translate his malice towards you into love,
+Standing your friendly lord.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Thus to have said,
+As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his spirit
+And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd
+Either his gracious promise, which you might,
+As cause had call'd you up, have held him to
+Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature,
+Which easily endures not article
+Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage,
+You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler
+And pass'd him unelected.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Did you perceive
+He did solicit you in free contempt
+When he did need your loves, and do you think
+That his contempt shall not be bruising to you,
+When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies
+No heart among you? or had you tongues to cry
+Against the rectorship of judgment?
+
+SICINIUS:
+Have you
+Ere now denied the asker? and now again
+Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow
+Your sued-for tongues?
+
+Third Citizen:
+He's not confirm'd; we may deny him yet.
+
+Second Citizen:
+And will deny him:
+I'll have five hundred voices of that sound.
+
+First Citizen:
+I twice five hundred and their friends to piece 'em.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends,
+They have chose a consul that will from them take
+Their liberties; make them of no more voice
+Than dogs that are as often beat for barking
+As therefore kept to do so.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Let them assemble,
+And on a safer judgment all revoke
+Your ignorant election; enforce his pride,
+And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not
+With what contempt he wore the humble weed,
+How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves,
+Thinking upon his services, took from you
+The apprehension of his present portance,
+Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion
+After the inveterate hate he bears you.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Lay
+A fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured,
+No impediment between, but that you must
+Cast your election on him.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Say, you chose him
+More after our commandment than as guided
+By your own true affections, and that your minds,
+Preoccupied with what you rather must do
+Than what you should, made you against the grain
+To voice him consul: lay the fault on us.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you.
+How youngly he began to serve his country,
+How long continued, and what stock he springs of,
+The noble house o' the Marcians, from whence came
+That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son,
+Who, after great Hostilius, here was king;
+Of the same house Publius and Quintus were,
+That our beat water brought by conduits hither;
+And  
+Twice being  
+Was his great ancestor.
+
+SICINIUS:
+One thus descended,
+That hath beside well in his person wrought
+To be set high in place, we did commend
+To your remembrances: but you have found,
+Scaling his present bearing with his past,
+That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke
+Your sudden approbation.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Say, you ne'er had done't--
+Harp on that still--but by our putting on;
+And presently, when you have drawn your number,
+Repair to the Capitol.
+
+All:
+We will so: almost all
+Repent in their election.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Let them go on;
+This mutiny were better put in hazard,
+Than stay, past doubt, for greater:
+If, as his nature is, he fall in rage
+With their refusal, both observe and answer
+The vantage of his anger.
+
+SICINIUS:
+To the Capitol, come:
+We will be there before the stream o' the people;
+And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own,
+Which we have goaded onward.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Tullus Aufidius then had made new head?
+
+LARTIUS:
+He had, my lord; and that it was which caused
+Our swifter composition.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+So then the Volsces stand but as at first,
+Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road.
+Upon's again.
+
+COMINIUS:
+They are worn, lord consul, so,
+That we shall hardly in our ages see
+Their banners wave again.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Saw you Aufidius?
+
+LARTIUS:
+On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse
+Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely
+Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Spoke he of me?
+
+LARTIUS:
+He did, my lord.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+How? what?
+
+LARTIUS:
+How often he had met you, sword to sword;
+That of all things upon the earth he hated
+Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes
+To hopeless restitution, so he might
+Be call'd your vanquisher.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+At Antium lives he?
+
+LARTIUS:
+At Antium.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I wish I had a cause to seek him there,
+To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home.
+Behold, these are the tribunes of the people,
+The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them;
+For they do prank them in authority,
+Against all noble sufferance.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Pass no further.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Ha! what is that?
+
+BRUTUS:
+It will be dangerous to go on: no further.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+What makes this change?
+
+MENENIUS:
+The matter?
+
+COMINIUS:
+Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common?
+
+BRUTUS:
+Cominius, no.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Have I had children's voices?
+
+First Senator:
+Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place.
+
+BRUTUS:
+The people are incensed against him.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Stop,
+Or all will fall in broil.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Are these your herd?
+Must these have voices, that can yield them now
+And straight disclaim their tongues? What are
+your offices?
+You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth?
+Have you not set them on?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Be calm, be calm.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot,
+To curb the will of the nobility:
+Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule
+Nor ever will be ruled.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Call't not a plot:
+The people cry you mock'd them, and of late,
+When corn was given them gratis, you repined;
+Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them
+Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Why, this was known before.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Not to them all.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Have you inform'd them sithence?
+
+BRUTUS:
+How! I inform them!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+You are like to do such business.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Not unlike,
+Each way, to better yours.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds,
+Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me
+Your fellow tribune.
+
+SICINIUS:
+You show too much of that
+For which the people stir: if you will pass
+To where you are bound, you must inquire your way,
+Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit,
+Or never be so noble as a consul,
+Nor yoke with him for tribune.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Let's be calm.
+
+COMINIUS:
+The people are abused; set on. This paltering
+Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus
+Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely
+I' the plain way of his merit.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Tell me of corn!
+This was my speech, and I will speak't again--
+
+MENENIUS:
+Not now, not now.
+
+First Senator:
+Not in this heat, sir, now.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends,
+I crave their pardons:
+For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them
+Regard me as I do not flatter, and
+Therein behold themselves: I say again,
+In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate
+The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
+Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd,
+and scatter'd,
+By mingling them with us, the honour'd number,
+Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
+Which they have given to beggars.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Well, no more.
+
+First Senator:
+No more words, we beseech you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+How! no more!
+As for my country I have shed my blood,
+Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs
+Coin words till their decay against those measles,
+Which we disdain should tatter us, yet sought
+The very way to catch them.
+
+BRUTUS:
+You speak o' the people,
+As if you were a god to punish, not
+A man of their infirmity.
+
+SICINIUS:
+'Twere well
+We let the people know't.
+
+MENENIUS:
+What, what? his choler?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Choler!
+Were I as patient as the midnight sleep,
+By Jove, 'twould be my mind!
+
+SICINIUS:
+It is a mind
+That shall remain a poison where it is,
+Not poison any further.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Shall remain!
+Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you
+His absolute 'shall'?
+
+COMINIUS:
+'Twas from the canon.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+'Shall'!
+O good but most unwise patricians! why,
+You grave but reckless senators, have you thus
+Given Hydra here to choose an officer,
+That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but
+The horn and noise o' the monster's, wants not spirit
+To say he'll turn your current in a ditch,
+And make your channel his? If he have power
+Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake
+Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd,
+Be not as common fools; if you are not,
+Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians,
+If they be senators: and they are no less,
+When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste
+Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate,
+And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,'
+His popular 'shall' against a graver bench
+Than ever frown in Greece. By Jove himself!
+It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches
+To know, when two authorities are up,
+Neither supreme, how soon confusion
+May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take
+The one by the other.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Well, on to the market-place.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth
+The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used
+Sometime in Greece,--
+
+MENENIUS:
+Well, well, no more of that.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Though there the people had more absolute power,
+I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed
+The ruin of the state.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Why, shall the people give
+One that speaks thus their voice?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I'll give my reasons,
+More worthier than their voices. They know the corn
+Was not our recompense, resting well assured
+That ne'er did service for't: being press'd to the war,
+Even when the navel of the state was touch'd,
+They would not thread the gates. This kind of service
+Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war
+Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd
+Most valour, spoke not for them: the accusation
+Which they have often made against the senate,
+All cause unborn, could never be the motive
+Of our so frank donation. Well, what then?
+How shall this bisson multitude digest
+The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express
+What's like to be their words: 'we did request it;
+We are the greater poll, and in true fear
+They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase
+The nature of our seats and make the rabble
+Call our cares fears; which will in time
+Break ope the locks o' the senate and bring in
+The crows to peck the eagles.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Come, enough.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Enough, with over-measure.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+No, take more:
+What may be sworn by, both divine and human,
+Seal what I end withal! This double worship,
+Where one part does disdain with cause, the other
+Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom,
+Cannot conclude but by the yea and no
+Of general ignorance,--it must omit
+Real necessities, and give way the while
+To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd,
+it follows,
+Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you,--
+You that will be less fearful than discreet,
+That love the fundamental part of state
+More than you doubt the change on't, that prefer
+A noble life before a long, and wish
+To jump a body with a dangerous physic
+That's sure of death without it, at once pluck out
+The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick
+The sweet which is their poison: your dishonour
+Mangles true judgment and bereaves the state
+Of that integrity which should become't,
+Not having the power to do the good it would,
+For the in which doth control't.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Has said enough.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer
+As traitors do.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee!
+What should the people do with these bald tribunes?
+On whom depending, their obedience fails
+To the greater bench: in a rebellion,
+When what's not meet, but what must be, was law,
+Then were they chosen: in a better hour,
+Let what is meet be said it must be meet,
+And throw their power i' the dust.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Manifest treason!
+
+SICINIUS:
+This a consul? no.
+
+BRUTUS:
+The aediles, ho!
+Let him be apprehended.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Go, call the people:
+in whose name myself
+Attach thee as a traitorous innovator,
+A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee,
+And follow to thine answer.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Hence, old goat!
+
+Senators, &C:
+We'll surety him.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Aged sir, hands off.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones
+Out of thy garments.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Help, ye citizens!
+
+MENENIUS:
+On both sides more respect.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Here's he that would take from you all your power.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Seize him, AEdiles!
+
+Citizens:
+Down with him! down with him!
+
+Senators, &C:
+Weapons, weapons, weapons!
+'Tribunes!' 'Patricians!' 'Citizens!' 'What, ho!'
+'Sicinius!' 'Brutus!' 'Coriolanus!' 'Citizens!'
+'Peace, peace, peace!' 'Stay, hold, peace!'
+
+MENENIUS:
+What is about to be? I am out of breath;
+Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You, tribunes
+To the people! Coriolanus, patience!
+Speak, good Sicinius.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Hear me, people; peace!
+
+Citizens:
+Let's hear our tribune: peace Speak, speak, speak.
+
+SICINIUS:
+You are at point to lose your liberties:
+Marcius would have all from you; Marcius,
+Whom late you have named for consul.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Fie, fie, fie!
+This is the way to kindle, not to quench.
+
+First Senator:
+To unbuild the city and to lay all flat.
+
+SICINIUS:
+What is the city but the people?
+
+Citizens:
+True,
+The people are the city.
+
+BRUTUS:
+By the consent of all, we were establish'd
+The people's magistrates.
+
+Citizens:
+You so remain.
+
+MENENIUS:
+And so are like to do.
+
+COMINIUS:
+That is the way to lay the city flat;
+To bring the roof to the foundation,
+And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
+In heaps and piles of ruin.
+
+SICINIUS:
+This deserves death.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Or let us stand to our authority,
+Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce,
+Upon the part o' the people, in whose power
+We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy
+Of present death.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Therefore lay hold of him;
+Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence
+Into destruction cast him.
+
+BRUTUS:
+AEdiles, seize him!
+
+Citizens:
+Yield, Marcius, yield!
+
+MENENIUS:
+Hear me one word;
+Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word.
+
+AEdile:
+Peace, peace!
+
+MENENIUS:
+
+BRUTUS:
+Sir, those cold ways,
+That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous
+Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him,
+And bear him to the rock.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+No, I'll die here.
+There's some among you have beheld me fighting:
+Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Lay hands upon him.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Help Marcius, help,
+You that be noble; help him, young and old!
+
+Citizens:
+Down with him, down with him!
+
+MENENIUS:
+Go, get you to your house; be gone, away!
+All will be naught else.
+
+Second Senator:
+Get you gone.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Stand fast;
+We have as many friends as enemies.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Sham it be put to that?
+
+First Senator:
+The gods forbid!
+I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house;
+Leave us to cure this cause.
+
+MENENIUS:
+For 'tis a sore upon us,
+You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Come, sir, along with us.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I would they were barbarians--as they are,
+Though in Rome litter'd--not Romans--as they are not,
+Though calved i' the porch o' the Capitol--
+
+MENENIUS:
+Be gone;
+Put not your worthy rage into your tongue;
+One time will owe another.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+On fair ground
+I could beat forty of them.
+
+COMINIUS:
+I could myself
+Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the
+two tribunes:
+But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic;
+And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands
+Against a falling fabric. Will you hence,
+Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend
+Like interrupted waters and o'erbear
+What they are used to bear.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Pray you, be gone:
+I'll try whether my old wit be in request
+With those that have but little: this must be patch'd
+With cloth of any colour.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Nay, come away.
+
+A Patrician:
+This man has marr'd his fortune.
+
+MENENIUS:
+His nature is too noble for the world:
+He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,
+Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth:
+What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent;
+And, being angry, does forget that ever
+He heard the name of death.
+Here's goodly work!
+
+Second Patrician:
+I would they were abed!
+
+MENENIUS:
+I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance!
+Could he not speak 'em fair?
+
+SICINIUS:
+Where is this viper
+That would depopulate the city and
+Be every man himself?
+
+MENENIUS:
+You worthy tribunes,--
+
+SICINIUS:
+He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock
+With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law,
+And therefore law shall scorn him further trial
+Than the severity of the public power
+Which he so sets at nought.
+
+First Citizen:
+He shall well know
+The noble tribunes are the people's mouths,
+And we their hands.
+
+Citizens:
+He shall, sure on't.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Sir, sir,--
+
+SICINIUS:
+Peace!
+
+MENENIUS:
+Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt
+With modest warrant.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Sir, how comes't that you
+Have holp to make this rescue?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Hear me speak:
+As I do know the consul's worthiness,
+So can I name his faults,--
+
+SICINIUS:
+Consul! what consul?
+
+MENENIUS:
+The consul Coriolanus.
+
+BRUTUS:
+He consul!
+
+Citizens:
+No, no, no, no, no.
+
+MENENIUS:
+If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people,
+I may be heard, I would crave a word or two;
+The which shall turn you to no further harm
+Than so much loss of time.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Speak briefly then;
+For we are peremptory to dispatch
+This viperous traitor: to eject him hence
+Were but one danger, and to keep him here
+Our certain death: therefore it is decreed
+He dies to-night.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Now the good gods forbid
+That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
+Towards her deserved children is enroll'd
+In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
+Should now eat up her own!
+
+SICINIUS:
+He's a disease that must be cut away.
+
+MENENIUS:
+O, he's a limb that has but a disease;
+Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy.
+What has he done to Rome that's worthy death?
+Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost--
+Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath,
+By many an ounce--he dropp'd it for his country;
+And what is left, to lose it by his country,
+Were to us all, that do't and suffer it,
+A brand to the end o' the world.
+
+SICINIUS:
+This is clean kam.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Merely awry: when he did love his country,
+It honour'd him.
+
+MENENIUS:
+The service of the foot
+Being once gangrened, is not then respected
+For what before it was.
+
+BRUTUS:
+We'll hear no more.
+Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence:
+Lest his infection, being of catching nature,
+Spread further.
+
+MENENIUS:
+One word more, one word.
+This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find
+The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will too late
+Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process;
+Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out,
+And sack great Rome with Romans.
+
+BRUTUS:
+If it were so,--
+
+SICINIUS:
+What do ye talk?
+Have we not had a taste of his obedience?
+Our aediles smote? ourselves resisted? Come.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Consider this: he has been bred i' the wars
+Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd
+In bolted language; meal and bran together
+He throws without distinction. Give me leave,
+I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him
+Where he shall answer, by a lawful form,
+In peace, to his utmost peril.
+
+First Senator:
+Noble tribunes,
+It is the humane way: the other course
+Will prove too bloody, and the end of it
+Unknown to the beginning.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Noble Menenius,
+Be you then as the people's officer.
+Masters, lay down your weapons.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Go not home.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there:
+Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed
+In our first way.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I'll bring him to you.
+Let me desire your company: he must come,
+Or what is worst will follow.
+
+First Senator:
+Pray you, let's to him.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Let them puff all about mine ears, present me
+Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels,
+Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
+That the precipitation might down stretch
+Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
+Be thus to them.
+
+A Patrician:
+You do the nobler.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I muse my mother
+Does not approve me further, who was wont
+To call them woollen vassals, things created
+To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads
+In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder,
+When one but of my ordinance stood up
+To speak of peace or war.
+I talk of you:
+Why did you wish me milder? would you have me
+False to my nature? Rather say I play
+The man I am.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+O, sir, sir, sir,
+I would have had you put your power well on,
+Before you had worn it out.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Let go.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+You might have been enough the man you are,
+With striving less to be so; lesser had been
+The thwartings of your dispositions, if
+You had not show'd them how ye were disposed
+Ere they lack'd power to cross you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Let them hang.
+
+A Patrician:
+Ay, and burn too.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Come, come, you have been too rough, something
+too rough;
+You must return and mend it.
+
+First Senator:
+There's no remedy;
+Unless, by not so doing, our good city
+Cleave in the midst, and perish.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Pray, be counsell'd:
+I have a heart as little apt as yours,
+But yet a brain that leads my use of anger
+To better vantage.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Well said, noble woman?
+Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that
+The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic
+For the whole state, I would put mine armour on,
+Which I can scarcely bear.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+What must I do?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Return to the tribunes.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Well, what then? what then?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Repent what you have spoke.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+For them! I cannot do it to the gods;
+Must I then do't to them?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+You are too absolute;
+Though therein you can never be too noble,
+But when extremities speak. I have heard you say,
+Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,
+I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me,
+In peace what each of them by the other lose,
+That they combine not there.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Tush, tush!
+
+MENENIUS:
+A good demand.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+If it be honour in your wars to seem
+The same you are not, which, for your best ends,
+You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse,
+That it shall hold companionship in peace
+With honour, as in war, since that to both
+It stands in like request?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Why force you this?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Because that now it lies you on to speak
+To the people; not by your own instruction,
+Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you,
+But with such words that are but rooted in
+Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables
+Of no allowance to your bosom's truth.
+Now, this no more dishonours you at all
+Than to take in a town with gentle words,
+Which else would put you to your fortune and
+The hazard of much blood.
+I would dissemble with my nature where
+My fortunes and my friends at stake required
+I should do so in honour: I am in this,
+Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles;
+And you will rather show our general louts
+How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em,
+For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard
+Of what that want might ruin.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Noble lady!
+Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so,
+Not what is dangerous present, but the loss
+Of what is past.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+I prithee now, my son,
+Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;
+And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them--
+Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business
+Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant
+More learned than the ears--waving thy head,
+Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart,
+Now humble as the ripest mulberry
+That will not hold the handling: or say to them,
+Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils
+Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess,
+Were fit for thee to use as they to claim,
+In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame
+Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far
+As thou hast power and person.
+
+MENENIUS:
+This but done,
+Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours;
+For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free
+As words to little purpose.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Prithee now,
+Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather
+Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf
+Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius.
+
+COMINIUS:
+I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fit
+You make strong party, or defend yourself
+By calmness or by absence: all's in anger.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Only fair speech.
+
+COMINIUS:
+I think 'twill serve, if he
+Can thereto frame his spirit.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+He must, and will
+Prithee now, say you will, and go about it.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce?
+Must I with base tongue give my noble heart
+A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't:
+Yet, were there but this single plot to lose,
+This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it
+And throw't against the wind. To the market-place!
+You have put me now to such a part which never
+I shall discharge to the life.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Come, come, we'll prompt you.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said
+My praises made thee first a soldier, so,
+To have my praise for this, perform a part
+Thou hast not done before.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Well, I must do't:
+Away, my disposition, and possess me
+Some harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd,
+Which quired with my drum, into a pipe
+Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice
+That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves
+Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up
+The glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongue
+Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees,
+Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his
+That hath received an alms! I will not do't,
+Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth
+And by my body's action teach my mind
+A most inherent baseness.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+At thy choice, then:
+To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour
+Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let
+Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear
+Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death
+With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list
+Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me,
+But owe thy pride thyself.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Pray, be content:
+Mother, I am going to the market-place;
+Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves,
+Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved
+Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going:
+Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul;
+Or never trust to what my tongue can do
+I' the way of flattery further.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Do your will.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourself
+To answer mildly; for they are prepared
+With accusations, as I hear, more strong
+Than are upon you yet.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+The word is 'mildly.' Pray you, let us go:
+Let them accuse me by invention, I
+Will answer in mine honour.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Ay, but mildly.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Well, mildly be it then. Mildly!
+
+BRUTUS:
+In this point charge him home, that he affects
+Tyrannical power: if he evade us there,
+Enforce him with his envy to the people,
+And that the spoil got on the Antiates
+Was ne'er distributed.
+What, will he come?
+
+AEdile:
+He's coming.
+
+BRUTUS:
+How accompanied?
+
+AEdile:
+With old Menenius, and those senators
+That always favour'd him.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Have you a catalogue
+Of all the voices that we have procured
+Set down by the poll?
+
+AEdile:
+I have; 'tis ready.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Have you collected them by tribes?
+
+AEdile:
+I have.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Assemble presently the people hither;
+And when they bear me say 'It shall be so
+I' the right and strength o' the commons,' be it either
+For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them
+If I say fine, cry 'Fine;' if death, cry 'Death.'
+Insisting on the old prerogative
+And power i' the truth o' the cause.
+
+AEdile:
+I shall inform them.
+
+BRUTUS:
+And when such time they have begun to cry,
+Let them not cease, but with a din confused
+Enforce the present execution
+Of what we chance to sentence.
+
+AEdile:
+Very well.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Make them be strong and ready for this hint,
+When we shall hap to give 't them.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Go about it.
+Put him to choler straight: he hath been used
+Ever to conquer, and to have his worth
+Of contradiction: being once chafed, he cannot
+Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks
+What's in his heart; and that is there which looks
+With us to break his neck.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Well, here he comes.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Calmly, I do beseech you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece
+Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour'd gods
+Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice
+Supplied with worthy men! plant love among 's!
+Throng our large temples with the shows of peace,
+And not our streets with war!
+
+First Senator:
+Amen, amen.
+
+MENENIUS:
+A noble wish.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Draw near, ye people.
+
+AEdile:
+List to your tribunes. Audience: peace, I say!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+First, hear me speak.
+
+Both Tribunes:
+Well, say. Peace, ho!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Shall I be charged no further than this present?
+Must all determine here?
+
+SICINIUS:
+I do demand,
+If you submit you to the people's voices,
+Allow their officers and are content
+To suffer lawful censure for such faults
+As shall be proved upon you?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I am content.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Lo, citizens, he says he is content:
+The warlike service he has done, consider; think
+Upon the wounds his body bears, which show
+Like graves i' the holy churchyard.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Scratches with briers,
+Scars to move laughter only.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Consider further,
+That when he speaks not like a citizen,
+You find him like a soldier: do not take
+His rougher accents for malicious sounds,
+But, as I say, such as become a soldier,
+Rather than envy you.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Well, well, no more.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+What is the matter
+That being pass'd for consul with full voice,
+I am so dishonour'd that the very hour
+You take it off again?
+
+SICINIUS:
+Answer to us.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Say, then: 'tis true, I ought so.
+
+SICINIUS:
+We charge you, that you have contrived to take
+From Rome all season'd office and to wind
+Yourself into a power tyrannical;
+For which you are a traitor to the people.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+How! traitor!
+
+MENENIUS:
+Nay, temperately; your promise.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people!
+Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune!
+Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths,
+In thy hand clutch'd as many millions, in
+Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say
+'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free
+As I do pray the gods.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Mark you this, people?
+
+Citizens:
+To the rock, to the rock with him!
+
+SICINIUS:
+Peace!
+We need not put new matter to his charge:
+What you have seen him do and heard him speak,
+Beating your officers, cursing yourselves,
+Opposing laws with strokes and here defying
+Those whose great power must try him; even this,
+So criminal and in such capital kind,
+Deserves the extremest death.
+
+BRUTUS:
+But since he hath
+Served well for Rome,--
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+What do you prate of service?
+
+BRUTUS:
+I talk of that, that know it.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+You?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Is this the promise that you made your mother?
+
+COMINIUS:
+Know, I pray you,--
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I know no further:
+Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
+Vagabond exile, raying, pent to linger
+But with a grain a day, I would not buy
+Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
+Nor cheque my courage for what they can give,
+To have't with saying 'Good morrow.'
+
+SICINIUS:
+For that he has,
+As much as in him lies, from time to time
+Envied against the people, seeking means
+To pluck away their power, as now at last
+Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence
+Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers
+That do distribute it; in the name o' the people
+And in the power of us the tribunes, we,
+Even from this instant, banish him our city,
+In peril of precipitation
+From off the rock Tarpeian never more
+To enter our Rome gates: i' the people's name,
+I say it shall be so.
+
+Citizens:
+It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away:
+He's banish'd, and it shall be so.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,--
+
+SICINIUS:
+He's sentenced; no more hearing.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Let me speak:
+I have been consul, and can show for Rome
+Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love
+My country's good with a respect more tender,
+More holy and profound, than mine own life,
+My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase,
+And treasure of my loins; then if I would
+Speak that,--
+
+SICINIUS:
+We know your drift: speak what?
+
+BRUTUS:
+There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd,
+As enemy to the people and his country:
+It shall be so.
+
+Citizens:
+It shall be so, it shall be so.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
+As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
+As the dead carcasses of unburied men
+That do corrupt my air, I banish you;
+And here remain with your uncertainty!
+Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
+Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
+Fan you into despair! Have the power still
+To banish your defenders; till at length
+Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels,
+Making not reservation of yourselves,
+Still your own foes, deliver you as most
+Abated captives to some nation
+That won you without blows! Despising,
+For you, the city, thus I turn my back:
+There is a world elsewhere.
+
+AEdile:
+The people's enemy is gone, is gone!
+
+Citizens:
+Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! hoo!
+
+SICINIUS:
+Go, see him out at gates, and follow him,
+As he hath followed you, with all despite;
+Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard
+Attend us through the city.
+
+Citizens:
+Come, come; let's see him out at gates; come.
+The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast
+With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother,
+Where is your ancient courage? you were used
+To say extremity was the trier of spirits;
+That common chances common men could bear;
+That when the sea was calm all boats alike
+Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows,
+When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves
+A noble cunning: you were used to load me
+With precepts that would make invincible
+The heart that conn'd them.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+O heavens! O heavens!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Nay! prithee, woman,--
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome,
+And occupations perish!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+What, what, what!
+I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother.
+Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,
+If you had been the wife of Hercules,
+Six of his labours you'ld have done, and saved
+Your husband so much sweat. Cominius,
+Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother:
+I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
+Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,
+And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general,
+I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld
+Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women
+'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes,
+As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well
+My hazards still have been your solace: and
+Believe't not lightly--though I go alone,
+Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen
+Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen--your son
+Will or exceed the common or be caught
+With cautelous baits and practise.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+My first son.
+Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius
+With thee awhile: determine on some course,
+More than a wild exposture to each chance
+That starts i' the way before thee.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+O the gods!
+
+COMINIUS:
+I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee
+Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us
+And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth
+A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send
+O'er the vast world to seek a single man,
+And lose advantage, which doth ever cool
+I' the absence of the needer.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Fare ye well:
+Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full
+Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one
+That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate.
+Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
+My friends of noble touch, when I am forth,
+Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.
+While I remain above the ground, you shall
+Hear from me still, and never of me aught
+But what is like me formerly.
+
+MENENIUS:
+That's worthily
+As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep.
+If I could shake off but one seven years
+From these old arms and legs, by the good gods,
+I'ld with thee every foot.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Give me thy hand: Come.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further.
+The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided
+In his behalf.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Now we have shown our power,
+Let us seem humbler after it is done
+Than when it was a-doing.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Bid them home:
+Say their great enemy is gone, and they
+Stand in their ancient strength.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Dismiss them home.
+Here comes his mother.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Let's not meet her.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Why?
+
+SICINIUS:
+They say she's mad.
+
+BRUTUS:
+They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+O, ye're well met: the hoarded plague o' the gods
+Requite your love!
+
+MENENIUS:
+Peace, peace; be not so loud.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+If that I could for weeping, you should hear,--
+Nay, and you shall hear some.
+Will you be gone?
+
+VIRGILIA:
+
+SICINIUS:
+Are you mankind?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this fool.
+Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship
+To banish him that struck more blows for Rome
+Than thou hast spoken words?
+
+SICINIUS:
+O blessed heavens!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+More noble blows than ever thou wise words;
+And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what; yet go:
+Nay, but thou shalt stay too: I would my son
+Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him,
+His good sword in his hand.
+
+SICINIUS:
+What then?
+
+VIRGILIA:
+What then!
+He'ld make an end of thy posterity.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Bastards and all.
+Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome!
+
+MENENIUS:
+Come, come, peace.
+
+SICINIUS:
+I would he had continued to his country
+As he began, and not unknit himself
+The noble knot he made.
+
+BRUTUS:
+I would he had.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+'I would he had'! 'Twas you incensed the rabble:
+Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth
+As I can of those mysteries which heaven
+Will not have earth to know.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Pray, let us go.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Now, pray, sir, get you gone:
+You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this:--
+As far as doth the Capitol exceed
+The meanest house in Rome, so far my son--
+This lady's husband here, this, do you see--
+Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Well, well, we'll leave you.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Why stay we to be baited
+With one that wants her wits?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Take my prayers with you.
+I would the gods had nothing else to do
+But to confirm my curses! Could I meet 'em
+But once a-day, it would unclog my heart
+Of what lies heavy to't.
+
+MENENIUS:
+You have told them home;
+And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,
+And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go:
+Leave this faint puling and lament as I do,
+In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Fie, fie, fie!
+
+Roman:
+I know you well, sir, and you know
+me: your name, I think, is Adrian.
+
+Volsce:
+It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you.
+
+Roman:
+I am a Roman; and my services are,
+as you are, against 'em: know you me yet?
+
+Volsce:
+Nicanor? no.
+
+Roman:
+The same, sir.
+
+Volsce:
+You had more beard when I last saw you; but your
+favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the
+news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state,
+to find you out there: you have well saved me a
+day's journey.
+
+Roman:
+There hath been in Rome strange insurrections; the
+people against the senators, patricians, and nobles.
+
+Volsce:
+Hath been! is it ended, then? Our state thinks not
+so: they are in a most warlike preparation, and
+hope to come upon them in the heat of their division.
+
+Roman:
+The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing
+would make it flame again: for the nobles receive
+so to heart the banishment of that worthy
+Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take
+all power from the people and to pluck from them
+their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can
+tell you, and is almost mature for the violent
+breaking out.
+
+Volsce:
+Coriolanus banished!
+
+Roman:
+Banished, sir.
+
+Volsce:
+You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.
+
+Roman:
+The day serves well for them now. I have heard it
+said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is
+when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble
+Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his
+great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request
+of his country.
+
+Volsce:
+He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus
+accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my
+business, and I will merrily accompany you home.
+
+Roman:
+I shall, between this and supper, tell you most
+strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of
+their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you?
+
+Volsce:
+A most royal one; the centurions and their charges,
+distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment,
+and to be on foot at an hour's warning.
+
+Roman:
+I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the
+man, I think, that shall set them in present action.
+So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company.
+
+Volsce:
+You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause
+to be glad of yours.
+
+Roman:
+Well, let us go together.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+A goodly city is this Antium. City,
+'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir
+Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars
+Have I heard groan and drop: then know me not,
+Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones
+In puny battle slay me.
+Save you, sir.
+
+Citizen:
+And you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Direct me, if it be your will,
+Where great Aufidius lies: is he in Antium?
+
+Citizen:
+He is, and feasts the nobles of the state
+At his house this night.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Which is his house, beseech you?
+
+Citizen:
+This, here before you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Thank you, sir: farewell.
+O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn,
+Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart,
+Whose house, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise,
+Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love
+Unseparable, shall within this hour,
+On a dissension of a doit, break out
+To bitterest enmity: so, fellest foes,
+Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep,
+To take the one the other, by some chance,
+Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends
+And interjoin their issues. So with me:
+My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon
+This enemy town. I'll enter: if he slay me,
+He does fair justice; if he give me way,
+I'll do his country service.
+
+First Servingman:
+Wine, wine, wine! What service
+is here! I think our fellows are asleep.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Where's Cotus? my master calls
+for him. Cotus!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I
+Appear not like a guest.
+
+First Servingman:
+What would you have, friend? whence are you?
+Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I have deserved no better entertainment,
+In being Coriolanus.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his
+head; that he gives entrance to such companions?
+Pray, get you out.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Away!
+
+Second Servingman:
+Away! get you away.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Now thou'rt troublesome.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.
+
+Third Servingman:
+What fellow's this?
+
+First Servingman:
+A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him
+out of the house: prithee, call my master to him.
+
+Third Servingman:
+What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid
+the house.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth.
+
+Third Servingman:
+What are you?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+A gentleman.
+
+Third Servingman:
+A marvellous poor one.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+True, so I am.
+
+Third Servingman:
+Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other
+station; here's no place for you; pray you, avoid: come.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits.
+
+Third Servingman:
+What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a
+strange guest he has here.
+
+Second Servingman:
+And I shall.
+
+Third Servingman:
+Where dwellest thou?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Under the canopy.
+
+Third Servingman:
+Under the canopy!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Ay.
+
+Third Servingman:
+Where's that?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I' the city of kites and crows.
+
+Third Servingman:
+I' the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is!
+Then thou dwellest with daws too?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+No, I serve not thy master.
+
+Third Servingman:
+How, sir! do you meddle with my master?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy
+mistress. Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy
+trencher, hence!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Where is this fellow?
+
+Second Servingman:
+Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for
+disturbing the lords within.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?
+Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+If, Tullus,
+Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not
+Think me for the man I am, necessity
+Commands me name myself.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+What is thy name?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears,
+And harsh in sound to thine.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Say, what's thy name?
+Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face
+Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn.
+Thou show'st a noble vessel: what's thy name?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Prepare thy brow to frown: know'st
+thou me yet?
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+I know thee not: thy name?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done
+To thee particularly and to all the Volsces
+Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may
+My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service,
+The extreme dangers and the drops of blood
+Shed for my thankless country are requited
+But with that surname; a good memory,
+And witness of the malice and displeasure
+Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains;
+The cruelty and envy of the people,
+Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
+Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest;
+And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be
+Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity
+Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope--
+Mistake me not--to save my life, for if
+I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world
+I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite,
+To be full quit of those my banishers,
+Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast
+A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge
+Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims
+Of shame seen through thy country, speed
+thee straight,
+And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it
+That my revengeful services may prove
+As benefits to thee, for I will fight
+Against my canker'd country with the spleen
+Of all the under fiends. But if so be
+Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes
+Thou'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am
+Longer to live most weary, and present
+My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice;
+Which not to cut would show thee but a fool,
+Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate,
+Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast,
+And cannot live but to thy shame, unless
+It be to do thee service.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+O Marcius, Marcius!
+Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart
+A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter
+Should from yond cloud speak divine things,
+And say 'Tis true,' I'ld not believe them more
+Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine
+Mine arms about that body, where against
+My grained ash an hundred times hath broke
+And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip
+The anvil of my sword, and do contest
+As hotly and as nobly with thy love
+As ever in ambitious strength I did
+Contend against thy valour. Know thou first,
+I loved the maid I married; never man
+Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here,
+Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart
+Than when I first my wedded mistress saw
+Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee,
+We have a power on foot; and I had purpose
+Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,
+Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out
+Twelve several times, and I have nightly since
+Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me;
+We have been down together in my sleep,
+Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
+And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius,
+Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that
+Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all
+From twelve to seventy, and pouring war
+Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
+Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O, come, go in,
+And take our friendly senators by the hands;
+Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
+Who am prepared against your territories,
+Though not for Rome itself.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+You bless me, gods!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have
+The leading of thine own revenges, take
+The one half of my commission; and set down--
+As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st
+Thy country's strength and weakness,--thine own ways;
+Whether to knock against the gates of Rome,
+Or rudely visit them in parts remote,
+To fright them, ere destroy. But come in:
+Let me commend thee first to those that shall
+Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes!
+And more a friend than e'er an enemy;
+Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome!
+
+First Servingman:
+Here's a strange alteration!
+
+Second Servingman:
+By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with
+a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a
+false report of him.
+
+First Servingman:
+What an arm he has! he turned me about with his
+finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in
+him: he had, sir, a kind of face, methought,--I
+cannot tell how to term it.
+
+First Servingman:
+He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged,
+but I thought there was more in him than I could think.
+
+Second Servingman:
+So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest
+man i' the world.
+
+First Servingman:
+I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Who, my master?
+
+First Servingman:
+Nay, it's no matter for that.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Worth six on him.
+
+First Servingman:
+Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the
+greater soldier.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that:
+for the defence of a town, our general is excellent.
+
+First Servingman:
+Ay, and for an assault too.
+
+Third Servingman:
+O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals!
+
+First Servingman:
+What, what, what? let's partake.
+
+Third Servingman:
+I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as
+lieve be a condemned man.
+
+First Servingman:
+Wherefore? wherefore?
+
+Third Servingman:
+Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general,
+Caius Marcius.
+
+First Servingman:
+Why do you say 'thwack our general '?
+
+Third Servingman:
+I do not say 'thwack our general;' but he was always
+good enough for him.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too
+hard for him; I have heard him say so himself.
+
+First Servingman:
+He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth
+on't: before Corioli he scotched him and notched
+him like a carbon ado.
+
+Second Servingman:
+An he had been cannibally given, he might have
+broiled and eaten him too.
+
+First Servingman:
+But, more of thy news?
+
+Third Servingman:
+Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son
+and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' the table; no
+question asked him by any of the senators, but they
+stand bald before him: our general himself makes a
+mistress of him: sanctifies himself with's hand and
+turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But
+the bottom of the news is that our general is cut i'
+the middle and but one half of what he was
+yesterday; for the other has half, by the entreaty
+and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says,
+and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears: he
+will mow all down before him, and leave his passage polled.
+
+Second Servingman:
+And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine.
+
+Third Servingman:
+Do't! he will do't; for, look you, sir, he has as
+many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it
+were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as
+we term it, his friends whilst he's in directitude.
+
+First Servingman:
+Directitude! what's that?
+
+Third Servingman:
+But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again,
+and the man in blood, they will out of their
+burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with
+him.
+
+First Servingman:
+But when goes this forward?
+
+Third Servingman:
+To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the
+drum struck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a
+parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they
+wipe their lips.
+
+Second Servingman:
+Why, then we shall have a stirring world again.
+This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase
+tailors, and breed ballad-makers.
+
+First Servingman:
+Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as
+day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and
+full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy;
+mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more
+bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.
+
+Second Servingman:
+'Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to
+be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a
+great maker of cuckolds.
+
+First Servingman:
+Ay, and it makes men hate one another.
+
+Third Servingman:
+Reason; because they then less need one another.
+The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap
+as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising.
+
+All:
+In, in, in, in!
+
+SICINIUS:
+We hear not of him, neither need we fear him;
+His remedies are tame i' the present peace
+And quietness of the people, which before
+Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends
+Blush that the world goes well, who rather had,
+Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold
+Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see
+Our tradesmen with in their shops and going
+About their functions friendly.
+
+BRUTUS:
+We stood to't in good time.
+Is this Menenius?
+
+SICINIUS:
+'Tis he,'tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late.
+
+Both Tribunes:
+Hail sir!
+
+MENENIUS:
+Hail to you both!
+
+SICINIUS:
+Your Coriolanus
+Is not much miss'd, but with his friends:
+The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do,
+Were he more angry at it.
+
+MENENIUS:
+All's well; and might have been much better, if
+He could have temporized.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Where is he, hear you?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife
+Hear nothing from him.
+
+Citizens:
+The gods preserve you both!
+
+SICINIUS:
+God-den, our neighbours.
+
+BRUTUS:
+God-den to you all, god-den to you all.
+
+First Citizen:
+Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees,
+Are bound to pray for you both.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Live, and thrive!
+
+BRUTUS:
+Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus
+Had loved you as we did.
+
+Citizens:
+Now the gods keep you!
+
+Both Tribunes:
+Farewell, farewell.
+
+SICINIUS:
+This is a happier and more comely time
+Than when these fellows ran about the streets,
+Crying confusion.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Caius Marcius was
+A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent,
+O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking,
+Self-loving,--
+
+SICINIUS:
+And affecting one sole throne,
+Without assistance.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I think not so.
+
+SICINIUS:
+We should by this, to all our lamentation,
+If he had gone forth consul, found it so.
+
+BRUTUS:
+The gods have well prevented it, and Rome
+Sits safe and still without him.
+
+AEdile:
+Worthy tribunes,
+There is a slave, whom we have put in prison,
+Reports, the Volsces with two several powers
+Are enter'd in the Roman territories,
+And with the deepest malice of the war
+Destroy what lies before 'em.
+
+MENENIUS:
+'Tis Aufidius,
+Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment,
+Thrusts forth his horns again into the world;
+Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome,
+And durst not once peep out.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Come, what talk you
+Of Marcius?
+
+BRUTUS:
+Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be
+The Volsces dare break with us.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Cannot be!
+We have record that very well it can,
+And three examples of the like have been
+Within my age. But reason with the fellow,
+Before you punish him, where he heard this,
+Lest you shall chance to whip your information
+And beat the messenger who bids beware
+Of what is to be dreaded.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Tell not me:
+I know this cannot be.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Not possible.
+
+Messenger:
+The nobles in great earnestness are going
+All to the senate-house: some news is come
+That turns their countenances.
+
+SICINIUS:
+'Tis this slave;--
+Go whip him, 'fore the people's eyes:--his raising;
+Nothing but his report.
+
+Messenger:
+Yes, worthy sir,
+The slave's report is seconded; and more,
+More fearful, is deliver'd.
+
+SICINIUS:
+What more fearful?
+
+Messenger:
+It is spoke freely out of many mouths--
+How probable I do not know--that Marcius,
+Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome,
+And vows revenge as spacious as between
+The young'st and oldest thing.
+
+SICINIUS:
+This is most likely!
+
+BRUTUS:
+Raised only, that the weaker sort may wish
+Good Marcius home again.
+
+SICINIUS:
+The very trick on't.
+
+MENENIUS:
+This is unlikely:
+He and Aufidius can no more atone
+Than violentest contrariety.
+
+Second Messenger:
+You are sent for to the senate:
+A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius
+Associated with Aufidius, rages
+Upon our territories; and have already
+O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and took
+What lay before them.
+
+COMINIUS:
+O, you have made good work!
+
+MENENIUS:
+What news? what news?
+
+COMINIUS:
+You have holp to ravish your own daughters and
+To melt the city leads upon your pates,
+To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses,--
+
+MENENIUS:
+What's the news? what's the news?
+
+COMINIUS:
+Your temples burned in their cement, and
+Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined
+Into an auger's bore.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Pray now, your news?
+You have made fair work, I fear me.--Pray, your news?--
+If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians,--
+
+COMINIUS:
+If!
+He is their god: he leads them like a thing
+Made by some other deity than nature,
+That shapes man better; and they follow him,
+Against us brats, with no less confidence
+Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
+Or butchers killing flies.
+
+MENENIUS:
+You have made good work,
+You and your apron-men; you that stood so up much
+on the voice of occupation and
+The breath of garlic-eaters!
+
+COMINIUS:
+He will shake
+Your Rome about your ears.
+
+MENENIUS:
+As Hercules
+Did shake down mellow fruit.
+You have made fair work!
+
+BRUTUS:
+But is this true, sir?
+
+COMINIUS:
+Ay; and you'll look pale
+Before you find it other. All the regions
+Do smilingly revolt; and who resist
+Are mock'd for valiant ignorance,
+And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him?
+Your enemies and his find something in him.
+
+MENENIUS:
+We are all undone, unless
+The noble man have mercy.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Who shall ask it?
+The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people
+Deserve such pity of him as the wolf
+Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they
+Should say 'Be good to Rome,' they charged him even
+As those should do that had deserved his hate,
+And therein show'd like enemies.
+
+MENENIUS:
+'Tis true:
+If he were putting to my house the brand
+That should consume it, I have not the face
+To say 'Beseech you, cease.' You have made fair hands,
+You and your crafts! you have crafted fair!
+
+COMINIUS:
+You have brought
+A trembling upon Rome, such as was never
+So incapable of help.
+
+Both Tribunes:
+Say not we brought it.
+
+MENENIUS:
+How! Was it we? we loved him but, like beasts
+And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters,
+Who did hoot him out o' the city.
+
+COMINIUS:
+But I fear
+They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius,
+The second name of men, obeys his points
+As if he were his officer: desperation
+Is all the policy, strength and defence,
+That Rome can make against them.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Here come the clusters.
+And is Aufidius with him? You are they
+That made the air unwholesome, when you cast
+Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at
+Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming;
+And not a hair upon a soldier's head
+Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs
+As you threw caps up will he tumble down,
+And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter;
+if he could burn us all into one coal,
+We have deserved it.
+
+Citizens:
+Faith, we hear fearful news.
+
+First Citizen:
+For mine own part,
+When I said, banish him, I said 'twas pity.
+
+Second Citizen:
+And so did I.
+
+Third Citizen:
+And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very
+many of us: that we did, we did for the best; and
+though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet
+it was against our will.
+
+COMINIUS:
+Ye re goodly things, you voices!
+
+MENENIUS:
+You have made
+Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol?
+
+COMINIUS:
+O, ay, what else?
+
+SICINIUS:
+Go, masters, get you home; be not dismay'd:
+These are a side that would be glad to have
+This true which they so seem to fear. Go home,
+And show no sign of fear.
+
+First Citizen:
+The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home.
+I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished
+him.
+
+Second Citizen:
+So did we all. But, come, let's home.
+
+BRUTUS:
+I do not like this news.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Nor I.
+
+BRUTUS:
+Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth
+Would buy this for a lie!
+
+SICINIUS:
+Pray, let us go.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Do they still fly to the Roman?
+
+Lieutenant:
+I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but
+Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat,
+Their talk at table, and their thanks at end;
+And you are darken'd in this action, sir,
+Even by your own.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+I cannot help it now,
+Unless, by using means, I lame the foot
+Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier,
+Even to my person, than I thought he would
+When first I did embrace him: yet his nature
+In that's no changeling; and I must excuse
+What cannot be amended.
+
+Lieutenant:
+Yet I wish, sir,--
+I mean for your particular,--you had not
+Join'd in commission with him; but either
+Had borne the action of yourself, or else
+To him had left it solely.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+I understand thee well; and be thou sure,
+when he shall come to his account, he knows not
+What I can urge against him. Although it seems,
+And so he thinks, and is no less apparent
+To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly.
+And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state,
+Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon
+As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone
+That which shall break his neck or hazard mine,
+Whene'er we come to our account.
+
+Lieutenant:
+Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome?
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+All places yield to him ere he sits down;
+And the nobility of Rome are his:
+The senators and patricians love him too:
+The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people
+Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty
+To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome
+As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
+By sovereignty of nature. First he was
+A noble servant to them; but he could not
+Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride,
+Which out of daily fortune ever taints
+The happy man; whether defect of judgment,
+To fail in the disposing of those chances
+Which he was lord of; or whether nature,
+Not to be other than one thing, not moving
+From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace
+Even with the same austerity and garb
+As he controll'd the war; but one of these--
+As he hath spices of them all, not all,
+For I dare so far free him--made him fear'd,
+So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit,
+To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues
+Lie in the interpretation of the time:
+And power, unto itself most commendable,
+Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair
+To extol what it hath done.
+One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail;
+Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail.
+Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine,
+Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.
+
+MENENIUS:
+No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath said
+Which was sometime his general; who loved him
+In a most dear particular. He call'd me father:
+But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him;
+A mile before his tent fall down, and knee
+The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd
+To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home.
+
+COMINIUS:
+He would not seem to know me.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Do you hear?
+
+COMINIUS:
+Yet one time he did call me by my name:
+I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops
+That we have bled together. Coriolanus
+He would not answer to: forbad all names;
+He was a kind of nothing, titleless,
+Till he had forged himself a name o' the fire
+Of burning Rome.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Why, so: you have made good work!
+A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome,
+To make coals cheap,--a noble memory!
+
+COMINIUS:
+I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon
+When it was less expected: he replied,
+It was a bare petition of a state
+To one whom they had punish'd.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Very well:
+Could he say less?
+
+COMINIUS:
+I offer'd to awaken his regard
+For's private friends: his answer to me was,
+He could not stay to pick them in a pile
+Of noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly,
+For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt,
+And still to nose the offence.
+
+MENENIUS:
+For one poor grain or two!
+I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child,
+And this brave fellow too, we are the grains:
+You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt
+Above the moon: we must be burnt for you.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid
+In this so never-needed help, yet do not
+Upbraid's with our distress. But, sure, if you
+Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue,
+More than the instant army we can make,
+Might stop our countryman.
+
+MENENIUS:
+No, I'll not meddle.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Pray you, go to him.
+
+MENENIUS:
+What should I do?
+
+BRUTUS:
+Only make trial what your love can do
+For Rome, towards Marcius.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Well, and say that Marcius
+Return me, as Cominius is return'd,
+Unheard; what then?
+But as a discontented friend, grief-shot
+With his unkindness? say't be so?
+
+SICINIUS:
+Yet your good will
+must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure
+As you intended well.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I'll undertake 't:
+I think he'll hear me. Yet, to bite his lip
+And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me.
+He was not taken well; he had not dined:
+The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then
+We pout upon the morning, are unapt
+To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
+These and these conveyances of our blood
+With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
+Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him
+Till he be dieted to my request,
+And then I'll set upon him.
+
+BRUTUS:
+You know the very road into his kindness,
+And cannot lose your way.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Good faith, I'll prove him,
+Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge
+Of my success.
+
+COMINIUS:
+He'll never hear him.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Not?
+
+COMINIUS:
+I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye
+Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury
+The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him;
+'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise;' dismiss'd me
+Thus, with his speechless hand: what he would do,
+He sent in writing after me; what he would not,
+Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions:
+So that all hope is vain.
+Unless his noble mother, and his wife;
+Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him
+For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence,
+And with our fair entreaties haste them on.
+
+First Senator:
+Stay: whence are you?
+
+Second Senator:
+Stand, and go back.
+
+MENENIUS:
+You guard like men; 'tis well: but, by your leave,
+I am an officer of state, and come
+To speak with Coriolanus.
+
+First Senator:
+From whence?
+
+MENENIUS:
+From Rome.
+
+First Senator:
+You may not pass, you must return: our general
+Will no more hear from thence.
+
+Second Senator:
+You'll see your Rome embraced with fire before
+You'll speak with Coriolanus.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Good my friends,
+If you have heard your general talk of Rome,
+And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks,
+My name hath touch'd your ears it is Menenius.
+
+First Senator:
+Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name
+Is not here passable.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I tell thee, fellow,
+The general is my lover: I have been
+The book of his good acts, whence men have read
+His name unparallel'd, haply amplified;
+For I have ever verified my friends,
+Of whom he's chief, with all the size that verity
+Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes,
+Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground,
+I have tumbled past the throw; and in his praise
+Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore, fellow,
+I must have leave to pass.
+
+First Senator:
+Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his
+behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you
+should not pass here; no, though it were as virtuous
+to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius,
+always factionary on the party of your general.
+
+Second Senator:
+Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you
+have, I am one that, telling true under him, must
+say, you cannot pass. Therefore, go back.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would not
+speak with him till after dinner.
+
+First Senator:
+You are a Roman, are you?
+
+MENENIUS:
+I am, as thy general is.
+
+First Senator:
+Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you,
+when you have pushed out your gates the very
+defender of them, and, in a violent popular
+ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to
+front his revenges with the easy groans of old
+women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with
+the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as
+you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the
+intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with
+such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived;
+therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your
+execution: you are condemned, our general has sworn
+you out of reprieve and pardon.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would
+use me with estimation.
+
+Second Senator:
+Come, my captain knows you not.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I mean, thy general.
+
+First Senator:
+My general cares not for you. Back, I say, go; lest
+I let forth your half-pint of blood; back,--that's
+the utmost of your having: back.
+
+MENENIUS:
+Nay, but, fellow, fellow,--
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+What's the matter?
+
+MENENIUS:
+Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you:
+You shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall
+perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from
+my son Coriolanus: guess, but by my entertainment
+with him, if thou standest not i' the state of
+hanging, or of some death more long in
+spectatorship, and crueller in suffering; behold now
+presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee.
+The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy
+particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than
+thy old father Menenius does! O my son, my son!
+thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's
+water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to
+thee; but being assured none but myself could move
+thee, I have been blown out of your gates with
+sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy
+petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy
+wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet
+here,--this, who, like a block, hath denied my
+access to thee.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Away!
+
+MENENIUS:
+How! away!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs
+Are servanted to others: though I owe
+My revenge properly, my remission lies
+In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar,
+Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather
+Than pity note how much. Therefore, be gone.
+Mine ears against your suits are stronger than
+Your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee,
+Take this along; I writ it for thy sake
+And would have rent it. Another word, Menenius,
+I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius,
+Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+You keep a constant temper.
+
+First Senator:
+Now, sir, is your name Menenius?
+
+Second Senator:
+'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the
+way home again.
+
+First Senator:
+Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your
+greatness back?
+
+Second Senator:
+What cause, do you think, I have to swoon?
+
+MENENIUS:
+I neither care for the world nor your general: for
+such things as you, I can scarce think there's any,
+ye're so slight. He that hath a will to die by
+himself fears it not from another: let your general
+do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and
+your misery increase with your age! I say to you,
+as I was said to, Away!
+
+First Senator:
+A noble fellow, I warrant him.
+
+Second Senator:
+The worthy fellow is our general: he's the rock, the
+oak not to be wind-shaken.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow
+Set down our host. My partner in this action,
+You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly
+I have borne this business.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Only their ends
+You have respected; stopp'd your ears against
+The general suit of Rome; never admitted
+A private whisper, no, not with such friends
+That thought them sure of you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+This last old man,
+Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome,
+Loved me above the measure of a father;
+Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge
+Was to send him; for whose old love I have,
+Though I show'd sourly to him, once more offer'd
+The first conditions, which they did refuse
+And cannot now accept; to grace him only
+That thought he could do more, a very little
+I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits,
+Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter
+Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this?
+Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
+In the same time 'tis made? I will not.
+My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould
+Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand
+The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection!
+All bond and privilege of nature, break!
+Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.
+What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes,
+Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not
+Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows;
+As if Olympus to a molehill should
+In supplication nod: and my young boy
+Hath an aspect of intercession, which
+Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces
+Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never
+Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand,
+As if a man were author of himself
+And knew no other kin.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+My lord and husband!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+The sorrow that delivers us thus changed
+Makes you think so.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Like a dull actor now,
+I have forgot my part, and I am out,
+Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh,
+Forgive my tyranny; but do not say
+For that 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss
+Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
+Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
+I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
+Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate,
+And the most noble mother of the world
+Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth;
+Of thy deep duty more impression show
+Than that of common sons.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+O, stand up blest!
+Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint,
+I kneel before thee; and unproperly
+Show duty, as mistaken all this while
+Between the child and parent.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+What is this?
+Your knees to me? to your corrected son?
+Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach
+Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds
+Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun;
+Murdering impossibility, to make
+What cannot be, slight work.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Thou art my warrior;
+I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady?
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+The noble sister of Publicola,
+The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle
+That's curdied by the frost from purest snow
+And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+This is a poor epitome of yours,
+Which by the interpretation of full time
+May show like all yourself.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+The god of soldiers,
+With the consent of supreme Jove, inform
+Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove
+To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars
+Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,
+And saving those that eye thee!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Your knee, sirrah.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+That's my brave boy!
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself,
+Are suitors to you.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I beseech you, peace:
+Or, if you'ld ask, remember this before:
+The thing I have forsworn to grant may never
+Be held by you denials. Do not bid me
+Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate
+Again with Rome's mechanics: tell me not
+Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not
+To ally my rages and revenges with
+Your colder reasons.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+O, no more, no more!
+You have said you will not grant us any thing;
+For we have nothing else to ask, but that
+Which you deny already: yet we will ask;
+That, if you fail in our request, the blame
+May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll
+Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request?
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment
+And state of bodies would bewray what life
+We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself
+How more unfortunate than all living women
+Are we come hither: since that thy sight,
+which should
+Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance
+with comforts,
+Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow;
+Making the mother, wife and child to see
+The son, the husband and the father tearing
+His country's bowels out. And to poor we
+Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us
+Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
+That all but we enjoy; for how can we,
+Alas, how can we for our country pray.
+Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory,
+Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose
+The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person,
+Our comfort in the country. We must find
+An evident calamity, though we had
+Our wish, which side should win: for either thou
+Must, as a foreign recreant, be led
+With manacles thorough our streets, or else
+triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,
+And bear the palm for having bravely shed
+Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son,
+I purpose not to wait on fortune till
+These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee
+Rather to show a noble grace to both parts
+Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
+March to assault thy country than to tread--
+Trust to't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb,
+That brought thee to this world.
+
+VIRGILIA:
+Ay, and mine,
+That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name
+Living to time.
+
+Young MARCIUS:
+A' shall not tread on me;
+I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Not of a woman's tenderness to be,
+Requires nor child nor woman's face to see.
+I have sat too long.
+
+VOLUMNIA:
+Nay, go not from us thus.
+If it were so that our request did tend
+To save the Romans, thereby to destroy
+The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us,
+As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit
+Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces
+May say 'This mercy we have show'd;' the Romans,
+'This we received;' and each in either side
+Give the all-hail to thee and cry 'Be blest
+For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son,
+The end of war's uncertain, but this certain,
+That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit
+Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name,
+Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses;
+Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble,
+But with his last attempt he wiped it out;
+Destroy'd his country, and his name remains
+To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son:
+Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour,
+To imitate the graces of the gods;
+To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air,
+And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
+That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak?
+Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man
+Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you:
+He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy:
+Perhaps thy childishness will move him more
+Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world
+More bound to 's mother; yet here he lets me prate
+Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life
+Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy,
+When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood,
+Has cluck'd thee to the wars and safely home,
+Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust,
+And spurn me back: but if it be not so,
+Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee,
+That thou restrain'st from me the duty which
+To a mother's part belongs. He turns away:
+Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.
+To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride
+Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end;
+This is the last: so we will home to Rome,
+And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold 's:
+This boy, that cannot tell what he would have
+But kneels and holds up bands for fellowship,
+Does reason our petition with more strength
+Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go:
+This fellow had a Volscian to his mother;
+His wife is in Corioli and his child
+Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch:
+I am hush'd until our city be a-fire,
+And then I'll speak a little.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+O mother, mother!
+What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope,
+The gods look down, and this unnatural scene
+They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O!
+You have won a happy victory to Rome;
+But, for your son,--believe it, O, believe it,
+Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd,
+If not most mortal to him. But, let it come.
+Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars,
+I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius,
+Were you in my stead, would you have heard
+A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius?
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+I was moved withal.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+I dare be sworn you were:
+And, sir, it is no little thing to make
+Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir,
+What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part,
+I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you,
+Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Ay, by and by;
+But we will drink together; and you shall bear
+A better witness back than words, which we,
+On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd.
+Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve
+To have a temple built you: all the swords
+In Italy, and her confederate arms,
+Could not have made this peace.
+
+MENENIUS:
+See you yond coign o' the Capitol, yond
+corner-stone?
+
+SICINIUS:
+Why, what of that?
+
+MENENIUS:
+If it be possible for you to displace it with your
+little finger, there is some hope the ladies of
+Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him.
+But I say there is no hope in't: our throats are
+sentenced and stay upon execution.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Is't possible that so short a time can alter the
+condition of a man!
+
+MENENIUS:
+There is differency between a grub and a butterfly;
+yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown
+from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a
+creeping thing.
+
+SICINIUS:
+He loved his mother dearly.
+
+MENENIUS:
+So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother
+now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness
+of his face sours ripe grapes: when he walks, he
+moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before
+his treading: he is able to pierce a corslet with
+his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a
+battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for
+Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with
+his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity
+and a heaven to throne in.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Yes, mercy, if you report him truly.
+
+MENENIUS:
+I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his
+mother shall bring from him: there is no more mercy
+in him than there is milk in a male tiger; that
+shall our poor city find: and all this is long of
+you.
+
+SICINIUS:
+The gods be good unto us!
+
+MENENIUS:
+No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto
+us. When we banished him, we respected not them;
+and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us.
+
+Messenger:
+Sir, if you'ld save your life, fly to your house:
+The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune
+And hale him up and down, all swearing, if
+The Roman ladies bring not comfort home,
+They'll give him death by inches.
+
+SICINIUS:
+What's the news?
+
+Second Messenger:
+Good news, good news; the ladies have prevail'd,
+The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone:
+A merrier day did never yet greet Rome,
+No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins.
+
+SICINIUS:
+Friend,
+Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain?
+
+Second Messenger:
+As certain as I know the sun is fire:
+Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it?
+Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide,
+As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you!
+The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes,
+Tabours and cymbals and the shouting Romans,
+Make the sun dance. Hark you!
+
+MENENIUS:
+This is good news:
+I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia
+Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians,
+A city full; of tribunes, such as you,
+A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day:
+This morning for ten thousand of your throats
+I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy!
+
+SICINIUS:
+First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next,
+Accept my thankfulness.
+
+Second Messenger:
+Sir, we have all
+Great cause to give great thanks.
+
+SICINIUS:
+They are near the city?
+
+Second Messenger:
+Almost at point to enter.
+
+SICINIUS:
+We will meet them,
+And help the joy.
+
+First Senator:
+Behold our patroness, the life of Rome!
+Call all your tribes together, praise the gods,
+And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them:
+Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius,
+Repeal him with the welcome of his mother;
+Cry 'Welcome, ladies, welcome!'
+
+All:
+Welcome, ladies, Welcome!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Go tell the lords o' the city I am here:
+Deliver them this paper: having read it,
+Bid them repair to the market place; where I,
+Even in theirs and in the commons' ears,
+Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse
+The city ports by this hath enter'd and
+Intends to appear before the people, hoping
+To purge herself with words: dispatch.
+Most welcome!
+
+First Conspirator:
+How is it with our general?
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Even so
+As with a man by his own alms empoison'd,
+And with his charity slain.
+
+Second Conspirator:
+Most noble sir,
+If you do hold the same intent wherein
+You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you
+Of your great danger.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Sir, I cannot tell:
+We must proceed as we do find the people.
+
+Third Conspirator:
+The people will remain uncertain whilst
+'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either
+Makes the survivor heir of all.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+I know it;
+And my pretext to strike at him admits
+A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd
+Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd,
+He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery,
+Seducing so my friends; and, to this end,
+He bow'd his nature, never known before
+But to be rough, unswayable and free.
+
+Third Conspirator:
+Sir, his stoutness
+When he did stand for consul, which he lost
+By lack of stooping,--
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+That I would have spoke of:
+Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth;
+Presented to my knife his throat: I took him;
+Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way
+In all his own desires; nay, let him choose
+Out of my files, his projects to accomplish,
+My best and freshest men; served his designments
+In mine own person; holp to reap the fame
+Which he did end all his; and took some pride
+To do myself this wrong: till, at the last,
+I seem'd his follower, not partner, and
+He waged me with his countenance, as if
+I had been mercenary.
+
+First Conspirator:
+So he did, my lord:
+The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last,
+When he had carried Rome and that we look'd
+For no less spoil than glory,--
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+There was it:
+For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him.
+At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
+As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
+Of our great action: therefore shall he die,
+And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!
+
+First Conspirator:
+Your native town you enter'd like a post,
+And had no welcomes home: but he returns,
+Splitting the air with noise.
+
+Second Conspirator:
+And patient fools,
+Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear
+With giving him glory.
+
+Third Conspirator:
+Therefore, at your vantage,
+Ere he express himself, or move the people
+With what he would say, let him feel your sword,
+Which we will second. When he lies along,
+After your way his tale pronounced shall bury
+His reasons with his body.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Say no more:
+Here come the lords.
+
+All The Lords:
+You are most welcome home.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+I have not deserved it.
+But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused
+What I have written to you?
+
+Lords:
+We have.
+
+First Lord:
+And grieve to hear't.
+What faults he made before the last, I think
+Might have found easy fines: but there to end
+Where he was to begin and give away
+The benefit of our levies, answering us
+With our own charge, making a treaty where
+There was a yielding,--this admits no excuse.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+He approaches: you shall hear him.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier,
+No more infected with my country's love
+Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting
+Under your great command. You are to know
+That prosperously I have attempted and
+With bloody passage led your wars even to
+The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home
+Do more than counterpoise a full third part
+The charges of the action. We have made peace
+With no less honour to the Antiates
+Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver,
+Subscribed by the consuls and patricians,
+Together with the seal o' the senate, what
+We have compounded on.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Read it not, noble lords;
+But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree
+He hath abused your powers.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Traitor! how now!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Ay, traitor, Marcius!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Marcius!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think
+I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name
+Coriolanus in Corioli?
+You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously
+He has betray'd your business, and given up,
+For certain drops of salt, your city Rome,
+I say 'your city,' to his wife and mother;
+Breaking his oath and resolution like
+A twist of rotten silk, never admitting
+Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears
+He whined and roar'd away your victory,
+That pages blush'd at him and men of heart
+Look'd wondering each at other.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Hear'st thou, Mars?
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Name not the god, thou boy of tears!
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Ha!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+No more.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart
+Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave!
+Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever
+I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords,
+Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion--
+Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that
+Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join
+To thrust the lie unto him.
+
+First Lord:
+Peace, both, and hear me speak.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads,
+Stain all your edges on me. Boy! false hound!
+If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
+That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I
+Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli:
+Alone I did it. Boy!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Why, noble lords,
+Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune,
+Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart,
+'Fore your own eyes and ears?
+
+All Conspirators:
+Let him die for't.
+
+All The People:
+'Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently.' 'He kill'd
+my son.' 'My daughter.' 'He killed my cousin
+Marcus.' 'He killed my father.'
+
+Second Lord:
+Peace, ho! no outrage: peace!
+The man is noble and his fame folds-in
+This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us
+Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius,
+And trouble not the peace.
+
+CORIOLANUS:
+O that I had him,
+With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe,
+To use my lawful sword!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+Insolent villain!
+
+All Conspirators:
+Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him!
+
+Lords:
+Hold, hold, hold, hold!
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+My noble masters, hear me speak.
+
+First Lord:
+O Tullus,--
+
+Second Lord:
+Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep.
+
+Third Lord:
+Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet;
+Put up your swords.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+My lords, when you shall know--as in this rage,
+Provoked by him, you cannot--the great danger
+Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice
+That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours
+To call me to your senate, I'll deliver
+Myself your loyal servant, or endure
+Your heaviest censure.
+
+First Lord:
+Bear from hence his body;
+And mourn you for him: let him be regarded
+As the most noble corse that ever herald
+Did follow to his urn.
+
+Second Lord:
+His own impatience
+Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
+Let's make the best of it.
+
+AUFIDIUS:
+My rage is gone;
+And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.
+Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.
+Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:
+Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
+Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
+Which to this hour bewail the injury,
+Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Now is the winter of our discontent
+Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
+And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
+In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
+Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
+Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
+Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
+Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
+Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
+And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
+To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
+He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
+To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
+But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
+Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
+I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
+To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
+I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
+Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
+Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
+Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
+And that so lamely and unfashionable
+That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
+Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
+Have no delight to pass away the time,
+Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
+And descant on mine own deformity:
+And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
+To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
+I am determined to prove a villain
+And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
+Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
+By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
+To set my brother Clarence and the king
+In deadly hate the one against the other:
+And if King Edward be as true and just
+As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
+This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
+About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
+Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
+Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
+Clarence comes.
+Brother, good day; what means this armed guard
+That waits upon your grace?
+
+CLARENCE:
+His majesty
+Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
+This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Upon what cause?
+
+CLARENCE:
+Because my name is George.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
+He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
+O, belike his majesty hath some intent
+That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower.
+But what's the matter, Clarence?  may I know?
+
+CLARENCE:
+Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest
+As yet I do not: but, as I can learn,
+He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
+And from the cross-row plucks the letter G.
+And says a wizard told him that by G
+His issue disinherited should be;
+And, for my name of George begins with G,
+It follows in his thought that I am he.
+These, as I learn, and such like toys as these
+Have moved his highness to commit me now.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women:
+'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower:
+My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
+That tempers him to this extremity.
+Was it not she and that good man of worship,
+Anthony Woodville, her brother there,
+That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
+From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
+We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.
+
+CLARENCE:
+By heaven, I think there's no man is secure
+But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds
+That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
+Heard ye not what an humble suppliant
+Lord hastings was to her for his delivery?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Humbly complaining to her deity
+Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
+I'll tell you what; I think it is our way,
+If we will keep in favour with the king,
+To be her men and wear her livery:
+The jealous o'erworn widow and herself,
+Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen.
+Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+I beseech your graces both to pardon me;
+His majesty hath straitly given in charge
+That no man shall have private conference,
+Of what degree soever, with his brother.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury,
+You may partake of any thing we say:
+We speak no treason, man: we say the king
+Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen
+Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;
+We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
+A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
+And that the queen's kindred are made gentle-folks:
+How say you sir? Can you deny all this?
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Naught to do with mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
+He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
+Were best he do it secretly, alone.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+What one, my lord?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me?
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal
+Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
+
+CLARENCE:
+We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+We are the queen's abjects, and must obey.
+Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
+And whatsoever you will employ me in,
+Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,
+I will perform it to enfranchise you.
+Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
+Touches me deeper than you can imagine.
+
+CLARENCE:
+I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
+Meantime, have patience.
+
+CLARENCE:
+I must perforce. Farewell.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
+Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so,
+That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
+If heaven will take the present at our hands.
+But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings?
+
+HASTINGS:
+Good time of day unto my gracious lord!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+As much unto my good lord chamberlain!
+Well are you welcome to the open air.
+How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?
+
+HASTINGS:
+With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must:
+But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
+That were the cause of my imprisonment.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;
+For they that were your enemies are his,
+And have prevail'd as much on him as you.
+
+HASTINGS:
+More pity that the eagle should be mew'd,
+While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+What news abroad?
+
+HASTINGS:
+No news so bad abroad as this at home;
+The King is sickly, weak and melancholy,
+And his physicians fear him mightily.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed.
+O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
+And overmuch consumed his royal person:
+'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
+What, is he in his bed?
+
+HASTINGS:
+He is.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Go you before, and I will follow you.
+He cannot live, I hope; and must not die
+Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven.
+I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
+With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
+And, if I fall not in my deep intent,
+Clarence hath not another day to live:
+Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
+And leave the world for me to bustle in!
+For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
+What though I kill'd her husband and her father?
+The readiest way to make the wench amends
+Is to become her husband and her father:
+The which will I; not all so much for love
+As for another secret close intent,
+By marrying her which I must reach unto.
+But yet I run before my horse to market:
+Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns:
+When they are gone, then must I count my gains.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Set down, set down your honourable load,
+If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
+Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
+The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
+Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
+Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
+Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
+Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
+To hear the lamentations of Poor Anne,
+Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
+Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds!
+Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
+I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
+Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes!
+Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it!
+Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!
+More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
+That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
+Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
+Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
+If ever he have child, abortive be it,
+Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
+Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
+May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
+And that be heir to his unhappiness!
+If ever he have wife, let her he made
+A miserable by the death of him
+As I am made by my poor lord and thee!
+Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
+Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
+And still, as you are weary of the weight,
+Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+What black magician conjures up this fiend,
+To stop devoted charitable deeds?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
+I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.
+
+Gentleman:
+My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:
+Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
+Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
+And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
+Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
+And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
+Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
+Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
+His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not;
+For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
+Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
+If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
+Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
+O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
+Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!
+Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
+For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
+From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
+Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
+Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
+O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!
+O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death!
+Either heaven with lightning strike the
+murderer dead,
+Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
+As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood
+Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Lady, you know no rules of charity,
+Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man:
+No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
+Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
+Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave,
+By circumstance, but to acquit myself.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
+For these known evils, but to give me leave,
+By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
+Some patient leisure to excuse myself.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
+No excuse current, but to hang thyself.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+By such despair, I should accuse myself.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
+For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
+Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Say that I slew them not?
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Why, then they are not dead:
+But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I did not kill your husband.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Why, then he is alive.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw
+Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
+The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
+But that thy brothers beat aside the point.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
+which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
+Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
+Didst thou not kill this king?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I grant ye.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too
+Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
+O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;
+For he was fitter for that place than earth.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+And thou unfit for any place but hell.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Some dungeon.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Your bed-chamber.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+So will it, madam till I lie with you.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+I hope so.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
+To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
+And fall somewhat into a slower method,
+Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
+Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
+As blameful as the executioner?
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
+Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep
+To undertake the death of all the world,
+So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
+These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck;
+You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
+As all the world is cheered by the sun,
+So I by that; it is my day, my life.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+I would I were, to be revenged on thee.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+It is a quarrel most unnatural,
+To be revenged on him that loveth you.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
+To be revenged on him that slew my husband.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
+Did it to help thee to a better husband.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+His better doth not breathe upon the earth.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+He lives that loves thee better than he could.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Name him.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Plantagenet.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Why, that was he.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+The selfsame name, but one of better nature.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Where is he?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Here.
+Why dost thou spit at me?
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Never came poison from so sweet a place.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
+Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I would they were, that I might die at once;
+For now they kill me with a living death.
+Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
+Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops:
+These eyes that never shed remorseful tear,
+No, when my father York and Edward wept,
+To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
+When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him;
+Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
+Told the sad story of my father's death,
+And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
+That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks
+Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time
+My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
+And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
+Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
+I never sued to friend nor enemy;
+My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
+But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
+My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.
+Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made
+For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
+If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
+Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
+Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom.
+And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
+I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
+And humbly beg the death upon my knee.
+Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,
+But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
+Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward,
+But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.
+Take up the sword again, or take up me.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
+I will not be the executioner.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+I have already.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Tush, that was in thy rage:
+Speak it again, and, even with the word,
+That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
+Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
+To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+I would I knew thy heart.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+'Tis figured in my tongue.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+I fear me both are false.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Then never man was true.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Well, well, put up your sword.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Say, then, my peace is made.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+That shall you know hereafter.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+But shall I live in hope?
+
+LADY ANNE:
+All men, I hope, live so.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+To take is not to give.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Look, how this ring encompasseth finger.
+Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
+Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
+And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
+But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
+Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+What is it?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+That it would please thee leave these sad designs
+To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
+And presently repair to Crosby Place;
+Where, after I have solemnly interr'd
+At Chertsey monastery this noble king,
+And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
+I will with all expedient duty see you:
+For divers unknown reasons. I beseech you,
+Grant me this boon.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
+To see you are become so penitent.
+Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Bid me farewell.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+'Tis more than you deserve;
+But since you teach me how to flatter you,
+Imagine I have said farewell already.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Sirs, take up the corse.
+
+GENTLEMEN:
+Towards Chertsey, noble lord?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining.
+Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
+Was ever woman in this humour won?
+I'll have her; but I will not keep her long.
+What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father,
+To take her in her heart's extremest hate,
+With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
+The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
+Having God, her conscience, and these bars
+against me,
+And I nothing to back my suit at all,
+But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
+And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
+Ha!
+Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
+Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
+Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
+A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
+Framed in the prodigality of nature,
+Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
+The spacious world cannot again afford
+And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
+That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
+And made her widow to a woful bed?
+On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
+On me, that halt and am unshapen thus?
+My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
+I do mistake my person all this while:
+Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
+Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
+I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,
+And entertain some score or two of tailors,
+To study fashions to adorn my body:
+Since I am crept in favour with myself,
+Will maintain it with some little cost.
+But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
+And then return lamenting to my love.
+Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
+That I may see my shadow as I pass.
+
+RIVERS:
+Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty
+Will soon recover his accustom'd health.
+
+GREY:
+In that you brook it in, it makes him worse:
+Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,
+And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+If he were dead, what would betide of me?
+
+RIVERS:
+No other harm but loss of such a lord.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+The loss of such a lord includes all harm.
+
+GREY:
+The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son,
+To be your comforter when he is gone.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Oh, he is young and his minority
+Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
+A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
+
+RIVERS:
+Is it concluded that he shall be protector?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+It is determined, not concluded yet:
+But so it must be, if the king miscarry.
+
+GREY:
+Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Good time of day unto your royal grace!
+
+DERBY:
+God make your majesty joyful as you have been!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby.
+To your good prayers will scarcely say amen.
+Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife,
+And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured
+I hate not you for her proud arrogance.
+
+DERBY:
+I do beseech you, either not believe
+The envious slanders of her false accusers;
+Or, if she be accused in true report,
+Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds
+From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
+
+RIVERS:
+Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby?
+
+DERBY:
+But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
+Are come from visiting his majesty.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+What likelihood of his amendment, lords?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+God grant him health! Did you confer with him?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement
+Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,
+And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain;
+And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Would all were well! but that will never be
+I fear our happiness is at the highest.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+They do me wrong, and I will not endure it:
+Who are they that complain unto the king,
+That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
+By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly
+That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
+Because I cannot flatter and speak fair,
+Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog,
+Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
+I must be held a rancorous enemy.
+Cannot a plain man live and think no harm,
+But thus his simple truth must be abused
+By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?
+
+RIVERS:
+To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace.
+When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong?
+Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?
+A plague upon you all! His royal person,--
+Whom God preserve better than you would wish!--
+Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,
+But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter.
+The king, of his own royal disposition,
+And not provoked by any suitor else;
+Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
+Which in your outward actions shows itself
+Against my kindred, brothers, and myself,
+Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
+The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad,
+That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch:
+Since every Jack became a gentleman
+There's many a gentle person made a Jack.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Come, come, we know your meaning, brother
+Gloucester;
+You envy my advancement and my friends':
+God grant we never may have need of you!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Meantime, God grants that we have need of you:
+Your brother is imprison'd by your means,
+Myself disgraced, and the nobility
+Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions
+Are daily given to ennoble those
+That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+By Him that raised me to this careful height
+From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,
+I never did incense his majesty
+Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been
+An earnest advocate to plead for him.
+My lord, you do me shameful injury,
+Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+You may deny that you were not the cause
+Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment.
+
+RIVERS:
+She may, my lord, for--
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so?
+She may do more, sir, than denying that:
+She may help you to many fair preferments,
+And then deny her aiding hand therein,
+And lay those honours on your high deserts.
+What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she--
+
+RIVERS:
+What, marry, may she?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+What, marry, may she! marry with a king,
+A bachelor, a handsome stripling too:
+I wis your grandam had a worser match.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne
+Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs:
+By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
+With those gross taunts I often have endured.
+I had rather be a country servant-maid
+Than a great queen, with this condition,
+To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at:
+Small joy have I in being England's queen.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee!
+Thy honour, state and seat is due to me.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+What! threat you me with telling of the king?
+Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said
+I will avouch in presence of the king:
+I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
+'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Out, devil! I remember them too well:
+Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower,
+And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king,
+I was a pack-horse in his great affairs;
+A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
+A liberal rewarder of his friends:
+To royalize his blood I spilt mine own.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Yea, and much better blood than his or thine.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+In all which time you and your husband Grey
+Were factious for the house of Lancaster;
+And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband
+In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain?
+Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
+What you have been ere now, and what you are;
+Withal, what I have been, and what I am.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+A murderous villain, and so still thou art.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick;
+Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!--
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Which God revenge!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+To fight on Edward's party for the crown;
+And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up.
+I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's;
+Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine
+I am too childish-foolish for this world.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world,
+Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is.
+
+RIVERS:
+My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days
+Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
+We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king:
+So should we you, if you should be our king.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar:
+Far be it from my heart, the thought of it!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
+You should enjoy, were you this country's king,
+As little joy may you suppose in me.
+That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
+For I am she, and altogether joyless.
+I can no longer hold me patient.
+Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
+In sharing that which you have pill'd from me!
+Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
+If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects,
+Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels?
+O gentle villain, do not turn away!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+But repetition of what thou hast marr'd;
+That will I make before I let thee go.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Wert thou not banished on pain of death?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+I was; but I do find more pain in banishment
+Than death can yield me here by my abode.
+A husband and a son thou owest to me;
+And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance:
+The sorrow that I have, by right is yours,
+And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+The curse my noble father laid on thee,
+When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper
+And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes,
+And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout
+Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland--
+His curses, then from bitterness of soul
+Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee;
+And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+So just is God, to right the innocent.
+
+HASTINGS:
+O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe,
+And the most merciless that e'er was heard of!
+
+RIVERS:
+Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.
+
+DORSET:
+No man but prophesied revenge for it.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+What were you snarling all before I came,
+Ready to catch each other by the throat,
+And turn you all your hatred now on me?
+Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven?
+That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
+Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment,
+Could all but answer for that peevish brat?
+Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven?
+Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!
+If not by war, by surfeit die your king,
+As ours by murder, to make him a king!
+Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales,
+For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales,
+Die in his youth by like untimely violence!
+Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
+Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
+Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss;
+And see another, as I see thee now,
+Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
+Long die thy happy days before thy death;
+And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
+Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!
+Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by,
+And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son
+Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
+That none of you may live your natural age,
+But by some unlook'd accident cut off!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag!
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
+If heaven have any grievous plague in store
+Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
+O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,
+And then hurl down their indignation
+On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
+The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul!
+Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest,
+And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
+No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
+Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream
+Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
+Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
+Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
+The slave of nature and the son of hell!
+Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
+Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins!
+Thou rag of honour! thou detested--
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Margaret.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Richard!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Ha!
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+I call thee not.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought
+That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply.
+O, let me make the period to my curse!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.'
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune!
+Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
+Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
+Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself.
+The time will come when thou shalt wish for me
+To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad.
+
+HASTINGS:
+False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,
+Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine.
+
+RIVERS:
+Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+To serve me well, you all should do me duty,
+Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects:
+O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty!
+
+DORSET:
+Dispute not with her; she is lunatic.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Peace, master marquess, you are malapert:
+Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.
+O, that your young nobility could judge
+What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!
+They that stand high have many blasts to shake them;
+And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess.
+
+DORSET:
+It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Yea, and much more: but I was born so high,
+Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top,
+And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+And turns the sun to shade; alas! alas!
+Witness my son, now in the shade of death;
+Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
+Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
+Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest.
+O God, that seest it, do not suffer it!
+As it was won with blood, lost be it so!
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Have done! for shame, if not for charity.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Urge neither charity nor shame to me:
+Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
+And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
+My charity is outrage, life my shame
+And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Have done, have done.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+O princely Buckingham I'll kiss thy hand,
+In sign of league and amity with thee:
+Now fair befal thee and thy noble house!
+Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
+Nor thou within the compass of my curse.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Nor no one here; for curses never pass
+The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+I'll not believe but they ascend the sky,
+And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
+O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog!
+Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,
+His venom tooth will rankle to the death:
+Have not to do with him, beware of him;
+Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him,
+And all their ministers attend on him.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
+And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?
+O, but remember this another day,
+When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
+And say poor Margaret was a prophetess!
+Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
+And he to yours, and all of you to God's!
+
+HASTINGS:
+My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.
+
+RIVERS:
+And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother,
+She hath had too much wrong; and I repent
+My part thereof that I have done to her.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+I never did her any, to my knowledge.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+But you have all the vantage of her wrong.
+I was too hot to do somebody good,
+That is too cold in thinking of it now.
+Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid,
+He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains
+God pardon them that are the cause of it!
+
+RIVERS:
+A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,
+To pray for them that have done scathe to us.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+So do I ever:
+being well-advised.
+For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.
+
+CATESBY:
+Madam, his majesty doth call for you,
+And for your grace; and you, my noble lords.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us?
+
+RIVERS:
+Madam, we will attend your grace.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
+The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
+I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
+Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,
+I do beweep to many simple gulls
+Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham;
+And say it is the queen and her allies
+That stir the king against the duke my brother.
+Now, they believe it; and withal whet me
+To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:
+But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture,
+Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
+And thus I clothe my naked villany
+With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ;
+And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
+But, soft! here come my executioners.
+How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates!
+Are you now going to dispatch this deed?
+
+First Murderer:
+We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant
+That we may be admitted where he is.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Well thought upon; I have it here about me.
+When you have done, repair to Crosby Place.
+But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,
+Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
+For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps
+May move your hearts to pity if you mark him.
+
+First Murderer:
+Tush!
+Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
+Talkers are no good doers: be assured
+We come to use our hands and not our tongues.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears:
+I like you, lads; about your business straight;
+Go, go, dispatch.
+
+First Murderer:
+We will, my noble lord.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+Why looks your grace so heavily today?
+
+CLARENCE:
+O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
+So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,
+That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
+I would not spend another such a night,
+Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days,
+So full of dismal terror was the time!
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
+And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;
+And, in my company, my brother Gloucester;
+Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
+Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England,
+And cited up a thousand fearful times,
+During the wars of York and Lancaster
+That had befall'n us. As we paced along
+Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
+Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling,
+Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
+Into the tumbling billows of the main.
+Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
+What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
+What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
+Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
+Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
+Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
+Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
+All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea:
+Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
+Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
+As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
+Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
+And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+Had you such leisure in the time of death
+To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?
+
+CLARENCE:
+Methought I had; and often did I strive
+To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
+Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
+To seek the empty, vast and wandering air;
+But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
+Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+Awaked you not with this sore agony?
+
+CLARENCE:
+O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
+O, then began the tempest to my soul,
+Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
+With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
+Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
+The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
+Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
+Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury
+Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?'
+And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by
+A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
+Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud,
+'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
+That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;
+Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!'
+With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends
+Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears
+Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
+I trembling waked, and for a season after
+Could not believe but that I was in hell,
+Such terrible impression made the dream.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you;
+I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it.
+
+CLARENCE:
+O Brakenbury, I have done those things,
+Which now bear evidence against my soul,
+For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me!
+O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
+But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
+Yet execute thy wrath in me alone,
+O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!
+I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
+My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest!
+Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
+Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
+Princes have but their tides for their glories,
+An outward honour for an inward toil;
+And, for unfelt imagination,
+They often feel a world of restless cares:
+So that, betwixt their tides and low names,
+There's nothing differs but the outward fame.
+
+First Murderer:
+Ho! who's here?
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+In God's name what are you, and how came you hither?
+
+First Murderer:
+I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+Yea, are you so brief?
+
+Second Murderer:
+O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Show
+him our commission; talk no more.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+I am, in this, commanded to deliver
+The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands:
+I will not reason what is meant hereby,
+Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.
+Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep:
+I'll to the king; and signify to him
+That thus I have resign'd my charge to you.
+
+First Murderer:
+Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well.
+
+Second Murderer:
+What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?
+
+First Murderer:
+No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.
+
+Second Murderer:
+When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till
+the judgment-day.
+
+First Murderer:
+Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping.
+
+Second Murderer:
+The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind
+of remorse in me.
+
+First Murderer:
+What, art thou afraid?
+
+Second Murderer:
+Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be
+damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us.
+
+First Murderer:
+I thought thou hadst been resolute.
+
+Second Murderer:
+So I am, to let him live.
+
+First Murderer:
+Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so.
+
+Second Murderer:
+I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour
+will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one
+would tell twenty.
+
+First Murderer:
+How dost thou feel thyself now?
+
+Second Murderer:
+'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet
+within me.
+
+First Murderer:
+Remember our reward, when the deed is done.
+
+Second Murderer:
+'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward.
+
+First Murderer:
+Where is thy conscience now?
+
+Second Murderer:
+In the Duke of Gloucester's purse.
+
+First Murderer:
+So when he opens his purse to give us our reward,
+thy conscience flies out.
+
+Second Murderer:
+Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.
+
+First Murderer:
+How if it come to thee again?
+
+Second Murderer:
+I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it
+makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it
+accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him;
+he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it
+detects him: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit that
+mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of
+obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold
+that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it
+is turned out of all towns and cities for a
+dangerous thing; and every man that means to live
+well endeavours to trust to himself and to live
+without it.
+
+First Murderer:
+'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me
+not to kill the duke.
+
+Second Murderer:
+Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he
+would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh.
+
+First Murderer:
+Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me,
+I warrant thee.
+
+Second Murderer:
+Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his
+reputation. Come, shall we to this gear?
+
+First Murderer:
+Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy
+sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt
+in the next room.
+
+Second Murderer:
+O excellent devise! make a sop of him.
+
+First Murderer:
+Hark! he stirs: shall I strike?
+
+Second Murderer:
+No, first let's reason with him.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine.
+
+Second murderer:
+You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon.
+
+CLARENCE:
+In God's name, what art thou?
+
+Second Murderer:
+A man, as you are.
+
+CLARENCE:
+But not, as I am, royal.
+
+Second Murderer:
+Nor you, as we are, loyal.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.
+
+Second Murderer:
+My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own.
+
+CLARENCE:
+How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!
+Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale?
+Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
+
+Both:
+To, to, to--
+
+CLARENCE:
+To murder me?
+
+Both:
+Ay, ay.
+
+CLARENCE:
+You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,
+And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
+Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?
+
+First Murderer:
+Offended us you have not, but the king.
+
+CLARENCE:
+I shall be reconciled to him again.
+
+Second Murderer:
+Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Are you call'd forth from out a world of men
+To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
+Where are the evidence that do accuse me?
+What lawful quest have given their verdict up
+Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced
+The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
+Before I be convict by course of law,
+To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
+I charge you, as you hope to have redemption
+By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
+That you depart and lay no hands on me
+The deed you undertake is damnable.
+
+First Murderer:
+What we will do, we do upon command.
+
+Second Murderer:
+And he that hath commanded is the king.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings
+Hath in the tables of his law commanded
+That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then,
+Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's?
+Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands,
+To hurl upon their heads that break his law.
+
+Second Murderer:
+And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee,
+For false forswearing and for murder too:
+Thou didst receive the holy sacrament,
+To fight in quarrel of the house of Lancaster.
+
+First Murderer:
+And, like a traitor to the name of God,
+Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade
+Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.
+
+Second Murderer:
+Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend.
+
+First Murderer:
+How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,
+When thou hast broke it in so dear degree?
+
+CLARENCE:
+Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?
+For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs,
+He sends ye not to murder me for this
+For in this sin he is as deep as I.
+If God will be revenged for this deed.
+O, know you yet, he doth it publicly,
+Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
+He needs no indirect nor lawless course
+To cut off those that have offended him.
+
+First Murderer:
+Who made thee, then, a bloody minister,
+When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,
+That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?
+
+CLARENCE:
+My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.
+
+First Murderer:
+Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault,
+Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me;
+I am his brother, and I love him well.
+If you be hired for meed, go back again,
+And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,
+Who shall reward you better for my life
+Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
+
+Second Murderer:
+You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you.
+
+CLARENCE:
+O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear:
+Go you to him from me.
+
+Both:
+Ay, so we will.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Tell him, when that our princely father York
+Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
+And charged us from his soul to love each other,
+He little thought of this divided friendship:
+Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep.
+
+First Murderer:
+Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep.
+
+CLARENCE:
+O, do not slander him, for he is kind.
+
+First Murderer:
+Right,
+As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself:
+'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee.
+
+CLARENCE:
+It cannot be; for when I parted with him,
+He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
+That he would labour my delivery.
+
+Second Murderer:
+Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee
+From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven.
+
+First Murderer:
+Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
+To counsel me to make my peace with God,
+And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
+That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?
+Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on
+To do this deed will hate you for the deed.
+
+Second Murderer:
+What shall we do?
+
+CLARENCE:
+Relent, and save your souls.
+
+First Murderer:
+Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish.
+Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
+Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
+if two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
+Would not entreat for life?
+My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks:
+O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
+Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
+As you would beg, were you in my distress
+A begging prince what beggar pities not?
+
+Second Murderer:
+Look behind you, my lord.
+
+First Murderer:
+Take that, and that: if all this will not do,
+I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.
+
+Second Murderer:
+A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd!
+How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
+Of this most grievous guilty murder done!
+
+First Murderer:
+How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not?
+By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art!
+
+Second Murderer:
+I would he knew that I had saved his brother!
+Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
+For I repent me that the duke is slain.
+
+First Murderer:
+So do not I: go, coward as thou art.
+Now must I hide his body in some hole,
+Until the duke take order for his burial:
+And when I have my meed, I must away;
+For this will out, and here I must not stay.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Why, so: now have I done a good day's work:
+You peers, continue this united league:
+I every day expect an embassage
+From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
+And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
+Since I have set my friends at peace on earth.
+Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand;
+Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.
+
+RIVERS:
+By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate:
+And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.
+
+HASTINGS:
+So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Take heed you dally not before your king;
+Lest he that is the supreme King of kings
+Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
+Either of you to be the other's end.
+
+HASTINGS:
+So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!
+
+RIVERS:
+And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Madam, yourself are not exempt in this,
+Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you;
+You have been factious one against the other,
+Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;
+And what you do, do it unfeignedly.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Here, Hastings; I will never more remember
+Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess.
+
+DORSET:
+This interchange of love, I here protest,
+Upon my part shall be unviolable.
+
+HASTINGS:
+And so swear I, my lord
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
+With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
+And make me happy in your unity.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
+On you or yours,
+but with all duteous love
+Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
+With hate in those where I expect most love!
+When I have most need to employ a friend,
+And most assured that he is a friend
+Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
+Be he unto me! this do I beg of God,
+When I am cold in zeal to yours.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
+is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
+There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here,
+To make the perfect period of this peace.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen:
+And, princely peers, a happy time of day!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.
+Brother, we done deeds of charity;
+Made peace enmity, fair love of hate,
+Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege:
+Amongst this princely heap, if any here,
+By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
+Hold me a foe;
+If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
+Have aught committed that is hardly borne
+By any in this presence, I desire
+To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
+'Tis death to me to be at enmity;
+I hate it, and desire all good men's love.
+First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
+Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
+Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
+If ever any grudge were lodged between us;
+Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you;
+That without desert have frown'd on me;
+Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all.
+I do not know that Englishman alive
+With whom my soul is any jot at odds
+More than the infant that is born to-night
+I thank my God for my humility.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+A holy day shall this be kept hereafter:
+I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
+My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty
+To take our brother Clarence to your grace.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this
+To be so bouted in this royal presence?
+Who knows not that the noble duke is dead?
+You do him injury to scorn his corse.
+
+RIVERS:
+Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+All seeing heaven, what a world is this!
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?
+
+DORSET:
+Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence
+But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+But he, poor soul, by your first order died,
+And that a winged Mercury did bear:
+Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,
+That came too lag to see him buried.
+God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
+Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood,
+Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
+And yet go current from suspicion!
+
+DORSET:
+A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow.
+
+DORSET:
+I will not rise, unless your highness grant.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st.
+
+DORSET:
+The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;
+Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman
+Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Have a tongue to doom my brother's death,
+And shall the same give pardon to a slave?
+My brother slew no man; his fault was thought,
+And yet his punishment was cruel death.
+Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage,
+Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised
+Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love?
+Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
+The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
+Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury
+When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,
+And said, 'Dear brother, live, and be a king'?
+Who told me, when we both lay in the field
+Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
+Even in his own garments, and gave himself,
+All thin and naked, to the numb cold night?
+All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
+Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
+Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
+But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
+Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced
+The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
+You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
+And I unjustly too, must grant it you
+But for my brother not a man would speak,
+Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
+For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
+Have been beholding to him in his life;
+Yet none of you would once plead for his life.
+O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
+On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this!
+Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.
+Oh, poor Clarence!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not
+How that the guilty kindred of the queen
+Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death?
+O, they did urge it still unto the king!
+God will revenge it. But come, let us in,
+To comfort Edward with our company.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+We wait upon your grace.
+
+Boy:
+Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+No, boy.
+
+Boy:
+Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast,
+And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!'
+
+Girl:
+Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
+And call us wretches, orphans, castaways
+If that our noble father be alive?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+My pretty cousins, you mistake me much;
+I do lament the sickness of the king.
+As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
+It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost.
+
+Boy:
+Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead.
+The king my uncle is to blame for this:
+God will revenge it; whom I will importune
+With daily prayers all to that effect.
+
+Girl:
+And so will I.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:
+Incapable and shallow innocents,
+You cannot guess who caused your father's death.
+
+Boy:
+Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester
+Told me, the king, provoked by the queen,
+Devised impeachments to imprison him :
+And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
+And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
+Bade me rely on him as on my father,
+And he would love me dearly as his child.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
+And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile!
+He is my son; yea, and therein my shame;
+Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.
+
+Boy:
+Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Ay, boy.
+
+Boy:
+I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
+To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
+I'll join with black despair against my soul,
+And to myself become an enemy.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+What means this scene of rude impatience?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+To make an act of tragic violence:
+Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead.
+Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd?
+Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone?
+If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,
+That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's;
+Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
+To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow
+As I had title in thy noble husband!
+I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
+And lived by looking on his images:
+But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
+Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death,
+And I for comfort have but one false glass,
+Which grieves me when I see my shame in him.
+Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
+And hast the comfort of thy children left thee:
+But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms,
+And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs,
+Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I,
+Thine being but a moiety of my grief,
+To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries!
+
+Boy:
+Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death;
+How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
+
+Girl:
+Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd;
+Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Give me no help in lamentation;
+I am not barren to bring forth complaints
+All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
+That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,
+May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
+Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward!
+
+Children:
+Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone.
+
+Children:
+What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+What stays had I but they? and they are gone.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Was never widow had so dear a loss!
+
+Children:
+Were never orphans had so dear a loss!
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Was never mother had so dear a loss!
+Alas, I am the mother of these moans!
+Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
+She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;
+I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
+These babes for Clarence weep and so do I;
+I for an Edward weep, so do not they:
+Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
+Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse,
+And I will pamper it with lamentations.
+
+DORSET:
+Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased
+That you take with unthankfulness, his doing:
+In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful,
+With dull unwilligness to repay a debt
+Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;
+Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
+For it requires the royal debt it lent you.
+
+RIVERS:
+Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
+Of the young prince your son: send straight for him
+Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives:
+Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
+And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause
+To wail the dimming of our shining star;
+But none can cure their harms by wailing them.
+Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;
+I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee
+I crave your blessing.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind,
+Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers,
+That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,
+Now cheer each other in each other's love
+Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
+We are to reap the harvest of his son.
+The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
+But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together,
+Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept:
+Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
+Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd
+Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.
+
+RIVERS:
+Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
+The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out,
+Which would be so much the more dangerous
+By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd:
+Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
+And may direct his course as please himself,
+As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent,
+In my opinion, ought to be prevented.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I hope the king made peace with all of us
+And the compact is firm and true in me.
+
+RIVERS:
+And so in me; and so, I think, in all:
+Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
+To no apparent likelihood of breach,
+Which haply by much company might be urged:
+Therefore I say with noble Buckingham,
+That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.
+
+HASTINGS:
+And so say I.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Then be it so; and go we to determine
+Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.
+Madam, and you, my mother, will you go
+To give your censures in this weighty business?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+With all our harts.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince,
+For God's sake, let not us two be behind;
+For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,
+As index to the story we late talk'd of,
+To part the queen's proud kindred from the king.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+My other self, my counsel's consistory,
+My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin,
+I, like a child, will go by thy direction.
+Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.
+
+First Citizen:
+Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast?
+
+Second Citizen:
+I promise you, I scarcely know myself:
+Hear you the news abroad?
+
+First Citizen:
+Ay, that the king is dead.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Bad news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better:
+I fear, I fear 'twill prove a troublous world.
+
+Third Citizen:
+Neighbours, God speed!
+
+First Citizen:
+Give you good morrow, sir.
+
+Third Citizen:
+Doth this news hold of good King Edward's death?
+
+Second Citizen:
+Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while!
+
+Third Citizen:
+Then, masters, look to see a troublous world.
+
+First Citizen:
+No, no; by God's good grace his son shall reign.
+
+Third Citizen:
+Woe to the land that's govern'd by a child!
+
+Second Citizen:
+In him there is a hope of government,
+That in his nonage council under him,
+And in his full and ripen'd years himself,
+No doubt, shall then and till then govern well.
+
+First Citizen:
+So stood the state when Henry the Sixth
+Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old.
+
+Third Citizen:
+Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot;
+For then this land was famously enrich'd
+With politic grave counsel; then the king
+Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.
+
+First Citizen:
+Why, so hath this, both by the father and mother.
+
+Third Citizen:
+Better it were they all came by the father,
+Or by the father there were none at all;
+For emulation now, who shall be nearest,
+Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
+O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester!
+And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud:
+And were they to be ruled, and not to rule,
+This sickly land might solace as before.
+
+First Citizen:
+Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well.
+
+Third Citizen:
+When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks;
+When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand;
+When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
+Untimely storms make men expect a dearth.
+All may be well; but, if God sort it so,
+'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.
+
+Second Citizen:
+Truly, the souls of men are full of dread:
+Ye cannot reason almost with a man
+That looks not heavily and full of fear.
+
+Third Citizen:
+Before the times of change, still is it so:
+By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
+Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see
+The waters swell before a boisterous storm.
+But leave it all to God. whither away?
+
+Second Citizen:
+Marry, we were sent for to the justices.
+
+Third Citizen:
+And so was I: I'll bear you company.
+
+ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:
+Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton;
+At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night:
+To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I long with all my heart to see the prince:
+I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+But I hear, no; they say my son of York
+Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.
+
+YORK:
+Ay, mother; but I would not have it so.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow.
+
+YORK:
+Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper,
+My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
+More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle
+Gloucester,
+'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:'
+And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
+Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold
+In him that did object the same to thee;
+He was the wretched'st thing when he was young,
+So long a-growing and so leisurely,
+That, if this rule were true, he should be gracious.
+
+ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:
+Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt.
+
+YORK:
+Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,
+I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
+To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+How, my pretty York? I pray thee, let me hear it.
+
+YORK:
+Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast
+That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old
+'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
+Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this?
+
+YORK:
+Grandam, his nurse.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wert born.
+
+YORK:
+If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd.
+
+ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:
+Good madam, be not angry with the child.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Pitchers have ears.
+
+ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:
+Here comes a messenger. What news?
+
+Messenger:
+Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+How fares the prince?
+
+Messenger:
+Well, madam, and in health.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+What is thy news then?
+
+Messenger:
+Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret,
+With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Who hath committed them?
+
+Messenger:
+The mighty dukes
+Gloucester and Buckingham.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+For what offence?
+
+Messenger:
+The sum of all I can, I have disclosed;
+Why or for what these nobles were committed
+Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Ay me, I see the downfall of our house!
+The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind;
+Insulting tyranny begins to jet
+Upon the innocent and aweless throne:
+Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre!
+I see, as in a map, the end of all.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Accursed and unquiet wrangling days,
+How many of you have mine eyes beheld!
+My husband lost his life to get the crown;
+And often up and down my sons were toss'd,
+For me to joy and weep their gain and loss:
+And being seated, and domestic broils
+Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors.
+Make war upon themselves; blood against blood,
+Self against self: O, preposterous
+And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen;
+Or let me die, to look on death no more!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary.
+Madam, farewell.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I'll go along with you.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+You have no cause.
+
+ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:
+My gracious lady, go;
+And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
+For my part, I'll resign unto your grace
+The seal I keep: and so betide to me
+As well I tender you and all of yours!
+Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign
+The weary way hath made you melancholy.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+No, uncle; but our crosses on the way
+Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy
+I want more uncles here to welcome me.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years
+Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit
+Nor more can you distinguish of a man
+Than of his outward show; which, God he knows,
+Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
+Those uncles which you want were dangerous;
+Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
+But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :
+God keep you from them, and from such false friends!
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+God keep me from false friends! but they were none.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.
+
+Lord Mayor:
+God bless your grace with health and happy days!
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all.
+I thought my mother, and my brother York,
+Would long ere this have met us on the way
+Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not
+To tell us whether they will come or no!
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come?
+
+HASTINGS:
+On what occasion, God he knows, not I,
+The queen your mother, and your brother York,
+Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince
+Would fain have come with me to meet your grace,
+But by his mother was perforce withheld.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Fie, what an indirect and peevish course
+Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace
+Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York
+Unto his princely brother presently?
+If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him,
+And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
+
+CARDINAL:
+My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
+Can from his mother win the Duke of York,
+Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate
+To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
+We should infringe the holy privilege
+Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land
+Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+You are too senseless--obstinate, my lord,
+Too ceremonious and traditional
+Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
+You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
+The benefit thereof is always granted
+To those whose dealings have deserved the place,
+And those who have the wit to claim the place:
+This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserved it;
+And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:
+Then, taking him from thence that is not there,
+You break no privilege nor charter there.
+Oft have I heard of sanctuary men;
+But sanctuary children ne'er till now.
+
+CARDINAL:
+My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.
+Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?
+
+HASTINGS:
+I go, my lord.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may.
+Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come,
+Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Where it seems best unto your royal self.
+If I may counsel you, some day or two
+Your highness shall repose you at the Tower:
+Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit
+For your best health and recreation.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+I do not like the Tower, of any place.
+Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+He did, my gracious lord, begin that place;
+Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Is it upon record, or else reported
+Successively from age to age, he built it?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Upon record, my gracious lord.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+But say, my lord, it were not register'd,
+Methinks the truth should live from age to age,
+As 'twere retail'd to all posterity,
+Even to the general all-ending day.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+What say you, uncle?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I say, without characters, fame lives long.
+Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,
+I moralize two meanings in one word.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+That Julius Caesar was a famous man;
+With what his valour did enrich his wit,
+His wit set down to make his valour live
+Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
+For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
+I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,--
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+What, my gracious lord?
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+An if I live until I be a man,
+I'll win our ancient right in France again,
+Or die a soldier, as I lived a king.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Richard of York! how fares our loving brother?
+
+YORK:
+Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours:
+Too late he died that might have kept that title,
+Which by his death hath lost much majesty.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York?
+
+YORK:
+I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord,
+You said that idle weeds are fast in growth
+The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+He hath, my lord.
+
+YORK:
+And therefore is he idle?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.
+
+YORK:
+Then is he more beholding to you than I.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+He may command me as my sovereign;
+But you have power in me as in a kinsman.
+
+YORK:
+I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+A beggar, brother?
+
+YORK:
+Of my kind uncle, that I know will give;
+And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin.
+
+YORK:
+A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+A gentle cousin, were it light enough.
+
+YORK:
+O, then, I see, you will part but with light gifts;
+In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+It is too heavy for your grace to wear.
+
+YORK:
+I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+What, would you have my weapon, little lord?
+
+YORK:
+I would, that I might thank you as you call me.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+How?
+
+YORK:
+Little.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+My Lord of York will still be cross in talk:
+Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.
+
+YORK:
+You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me:
+Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me;
+Because that I am little, like an ape,
+He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons!
+To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
+He prettily and aptly taunts himself:
+So cunning and so young is wonderful.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+My lord, will't please you pass along?
+Myself and my good cousin Buckingham
+Will to your mother, to entreat of her
+To meet you at the Tower and welcome you.
+
+YORK:
+What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord?
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+My lord protector needs will have it so.
+
+YORK:
+I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Why, what should you fear?
+
+YORK:
+Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost:
+My grandam told me he was murdered there.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+I fear no uncles dead.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Nor none that live, I hope.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+An if they live, I hope I need not fear.
+But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart,
+Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Think you, my lord, this little prating York
+Was not incensed by his subtle mother
+To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous boy;
+Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable
+He is all the mother's, from the top to toe.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby.
+Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend
+As closely to conceal what we impart:
+Thou know'st our reasons urged upon the way;
+What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter
+To make William Lord Hastings of our mind,
+For the instalment of this noble duke
+In the seat royal of this famous isle?
+
+CATESBY:
+He for his father's sake so loves the prince,
+That he will not be won to aught against him.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+What think'st thou, then, of Stanley? what will he?
+
+CATESBY:
+He will do all in all as Hastings doth.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Well, then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby,
+And, as it were far off sound thou Lord Hastings,
+How doth he stand affected to our purpose;
+And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,
+To sit about the coronation.
+If thou dost find him tractable to us,
+Encourage him, and show him all our reasons:
+If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling,
+Be thou so too; and so break off your talk,
+And give us notice of his inclination:
+For we to-morrow hold divided councils,
+Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Commend me to Lord William: tell him, Catesby,
+His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries
+To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle;
+And bid my friend, for joy of this good news,
+Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly.
+
+CATESBY:
+My good lords both, with all the heed I may.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep?
+
+CATESBY:
+You shall, my lord.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive
+Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do:
+And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me
+The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables
+Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+I'll claim that promise at your grace's hands.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+And look to have it yielded with all willingness.
+Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards
+We may digest our complots in some form.
+
+Messenger:
+What, ho! my lord!
+
+HASTINGS:
+
+Messenger:
+A messenger from the Lord Stanley.
+
+HASTINGS:
+What is't o'clock?
+
+Messenger:
+Upon the stroke of four.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights?
+
+Messenger:
+So it should seem by that I have to say.
+First, he commends him to your noble lordship.
+
+HASTINGS:
+And then?
+
+Messenger:
+And then he sends you word
+He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his helm:
+Besides, he says there are two councils held;
+And that may be determined at the one
+which may make you and him to rue at the other.
+Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure,
+If presently you will take horse with him,
+And with all speed post with him toward the north,
+To shun the danger that his soul divines.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
+Bid him not fear the separated councils
+His honour and myself are at the one,
+And at the other is my servant Catesby
+Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us
+Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
+Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance:
+And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond
+To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers
+To fly the boar before the boar pursues,
+Were to incense the boar to follow us
+And make pursuit where he did mean no chase.
+Go, bid thy master rise and come to me
+And we will both together to the Tower,
+Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly.
+
+Messenger:
+My gracious lord, I'll tell him what you say.
+
+CATESBY:
+Many good morrows to my noble lord!
+
+HASTINGS:
+Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring
+What news, what news, in this our tottering state?
+
+CATESBY:
+It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord;
+And I believe twill never stand upright
+Tim Richard wear the garland of the realm.
+
+HASTINGS:
+How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown?
+
+CATESBY:
+Ay, my good lord.
+
+HASTINGS:
+I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders
+Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced.
+But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?
+
+CATESBY:
+Ay, on my life; and hopes to find forward
+Upon his party for the gain thereof:
+And thereupon he sends you this good news,
+That this same very day your enemies,
+The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,
+Because they have been still mine enemies:
+But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side,
+To bar my master's heirs in true descent,
+God knows I will not do it, to the death.
+
+CATESBY:
+God keep your lordship in that gracious mind!
+
+HASTINGS:
+But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence,
+That they who brought me in my master's hate
+I live to look upon their tragedy.
+I tell thee, Catesby--
+
+CATESBY:
+What, my lord?
+
+HASTINGS:
+Ere a fortnight make me elder,
+I'll send some packing that yet think not on it.
+
+CATESBY:
+'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
+When men are unprepared and look not for it.
+
+HASTINGS:
+O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out
+With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do
+With some men else, who think themselves as safe
+As thou and I; who, as thou know'st, are dear
+To princely Richard and to Buckingham.
+
+CATESBY:
+The princes both make high account of you;
+For they account his head upon the bridge.
+
+HASTINGS:
+I know they do; and I have well deserved it.
+Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man?
+Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?
+
+STANLEY:
+My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby:
+You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,
+I do not like these several councils, I.
+
+HASTINGS:
+My lord,
+I hold my life as dear as you do yours;
+And never in my life, I do protest,
+Was it more precious to me than 'tis now:
+Think you, but that I know our state secure,
+I would be so triumphant as I am?
+
+STANLEY:
+The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London,
+Were jocund, and supposed their state was sure,
+And they indeed had no cause to mistrust;
+But yet, you see how soon the day o'ercast.
+This sudden stag of rancour I misdoubt:
+Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward!
+What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Come, come, have with you. Wot you what, my lord?
+To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded.
+
+LORD STANLEY:
+They, for their truth, might better wear their heads
+Than some that have accused them wear their hats.
+But come, my lord, let us away.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Go on before; I'll talk with this good fellow.
+How now, sirrah! how goes the world with thee?
+
+Pursuivant:
+The better that your lordship please to ask.
+
+HASTINGS:
+I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now
+Than when I met thee last where now we meet:
+Then was I going prisoner to the Tower,
+By the suggestion of the queen's allies;
+But now, I tell thee--keep it to thyself--
+This day those enemies are put to death,
+And I in better state than e'er I was.
+
+Pursuivant:
+God hold it, to your honour's good content!
+
+HASTINGS:
+Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that for me.
+
+Pursuivant:
+God save your lordship!
+
+Priest:
+Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour.
+
+HASTINGS:
+I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart.
+I am in your debt for your last exercise;
+Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain?
+Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest;
+Your honour hath no shriving work in hand.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
+Those men you talk of came into my mind.
+What, go you toward the Tower?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+I do, my lord; but long I shall not stay
+I shall return before your lordship thence.
+
+HASTINGS:
+'Tis like enough, for I stay dinner there.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+
+HASTINGS:
+I'll wait upon your lordship.
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Come, bring forth the prisoners.
+
+RIVERS:
+Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this:
+To-day shalt thou behold a subject die
+For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.
+
+GREY:
+God keep the prince from all the pack of you!
+A knot you are of damned blood-suckers!
+
+VAUGHAN:
+You live that shall cry woe for this after.
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out.
+
+RIVERS:
+O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison,
+Fatal and ominous to noble peers!
+Within the guilty closure of thy walls
+Richard the second here was hack'd to death;
+And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
+We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink.
+
+GREY:
+Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads,
+For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.
+
+RIVERS:
+Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed she Buckingham,
+Then cursed she Richard. O, remember, God
+To hear her prayers for them, as now for us
+And for my sister and her princely sons,
+Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,
+Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt.
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Make haste; the hour of death is expiate.
+
+RIVERS:
+Come, Grey, come, Vaughan, let us all embrace:
+And take our leave, until we meet in heaven.
+
+HASTINGS:
+My lords, at once: the cause why we are met
+Is, to determine of the coronation.
+In God's name, speak: when is the royal day?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Are all things fitting for that royal time?
+
+DERBY:
+It is, and wants but nomination.
+
+BISHOP OF ELY:
+To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Who knows the lord protector's mind herein?
+Who is most inward with the royal duke?
+
+BISHOP OF ELY:
+Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Who, I, my lord I we know each other's faces,
+But for our hearts, he knows no more of mine,
+Than I of yours;
+Nor I no more of his, than you of mine.
+Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.
+
+HASTINGS:
+I thank his grace, I know he loves me well;
+But, for his purpose in the coronation.
+I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd
+His gracious pleasure any way therein:
+But you, my noble lords, may name the time;
+And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice,
+Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.
+
+BISHOP OF ELY:
+Now in good time, here comes the duke himself.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow.
+I have been long a sleeper; but, I hope,
+My absence doth neglect no great designs,
+Which by my presence might have been concluded.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Had not you come upon your cue, my lord
+William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part,--
+I mean, your voice,--for crowning of the king.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder;
+His lordship knows me well, and loves me well.
+
+HASTINGS:
+I thank your grace.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+My lord of Ely!
+
+BISHOP OF ELY:
+My lord?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+When I was last in Holborn,
+I saw good strawberries in your garden there
+I do beseech you send for some of them.
+
+BISHOP OF ELY:
+Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.
+Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,
+And finds the testy gentleman so hot,
+As he will lose his head ere give consent
+His master's son, as worshipful as he terms it,
+Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Withdraw you hence, my lord, I'll follow you.
+
+DERBY:
+We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
+To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden;
+For I myself am not so well provided
+As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.
+
+BISHOP OF ELY:
+Where is my lord protector? I have sent for these
+strawberries.
+
+HASTINGS:
+His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day;
+There's some conceit or other likes him well,
+When he doth bid good morrow with such a spirit.
+I think there's never a man in Christendom
+That can less hide his love or hate than he;
+For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
+
+DERBY:
+What of his heart perceive you in his face
+By any likelihood he show'd to-day?
+
+HASTINGS:
+Marry, that with no man here he is offended;
+For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.
+
+DERBY:
+I pray God he be not, I say.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I pray you all, tell me what they deserve
+That do conspire my death with devilish plots
+Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd
+Upon my body with their hellish charms?
+
+HASTINGS:
+The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,
+Makes me most forward in this noble presence
+To doom the offenders, whatsoever they be
+I say, my lord, they have deserved death.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Then be your eyes the witness of this ill:
+See how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm
+Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up:
+And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,
+Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore,
+That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.
+
+HASTINGS:
+If they have done this thing, my gracious lord--
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+If I thou protector of this damned strumpet--
+Tellest thou me of 'ifs'?  Thou art a traitor:
+Off with his head! Now, by Saint Paul I swear,
+I will not dine until I see the same.
+Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done:
+The rest, that love me, rise and follow me.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Woe, woe for England! not a whit for me;
+For I, too fond, might have prevented this.
+Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm;
+But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly:
+Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,
+And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower,
+As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.
+O, now I want the priest that spake to me:
+I now repent I told the pursuivant
+As 'twere triumphing at mine enemies,
+How they at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,
+And I myself secure in grace and favour.
+O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
+Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head!
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Dispatch, my lord; the duke would be at dinner:
+Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head.
+
+HASTINGS:
+O momentary grace of mortal men,
+Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
+Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks,
+Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,
+Ready, with every nod, to tumble down
+Into the fatal bowels of the deep.
+
+LOVEL:
+Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim.
+
+HASTINGS:
+O bloody Richard! miserable England!
+I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee
+That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.
+Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head.
+They smile at me that shortly shall be dead.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy colour,
+Murder thy breath in the middle of a word,
+And then begin again, and stop again,
+As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian;
+Speak and look back, and pry on every side,
+Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,
+Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks
+Are at my service, like enforced smiles;
+And both are ready in their offices,
+At any time, to grace my stratagems.
+But what, is Catesby gone?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Lord mayor,--
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Look to the drawbridge there!
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Hark! a drum.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Catesby, o'erlook the walls.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Lord mayor, the reason we have sent--
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Look back, defend thee, here are enemies.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+God and our innocency defend and guard us!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and Lovel.
+
+LOVEL:
+Here is the head of that ignoble traitor,
+The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+So dear I loved the man, that I must weep.
+I took him for the plainest harmless creature
+That breathed upon this earth a Christian;
+Made him my book wherein my soul recorded
+The history of all her secret thoughts:
+So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue,
+That, his apparent open guilt omitted,
+I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife,
+He lived from all attainder of suspect.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor
+That ever lived.
+Would you imagine, or almost believe,
+Were't not that, by great preservation,
+We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor
+This day had plotted, in the council-house
+To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester?
+
+Lord Mayor:
+What, had he so?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+What, think You we are Turks or infidels?
+Or that we would, against the form of law,
+Proceed thus rashly to the villain's death,
+But that the extreme peril of the case,
+The peace of England and our persons' safety,
+Enforced us to this execution?
+
+Lord Mayor:
+Now, fair befall you! he deserved his death;
+And you my good lords, both have well proceeded,
+To warn false traitors from the like attempts.
+I never look'd for better at his hands,
+After he once fell in with Mistress Shore.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Yet had not we determined he should die,
+Until your lordship came to see his death;
+Which now the loving haste of these our friends,
+Somewhat against our meaning, have prevented:
+Because, my lord, we would have had you heard
+The traitor speak, and timorously confess
+The manner and the purpose of his treason;
+That you might well have signified the same
+Unto the citizens, who haply may
+Misconstrue us in him and wail his death.
+
+Lord Mayor:
+But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve,
+As well as I had seen and heard him speak
+And doubt you not, right noble princes both,
+But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens
+With all your just proceedings in this cause.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+And to that end we wish'd your lord-ship here,
+To avoid the carping censures of the world.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+But since you come too late of our intents,
+Yet witness what you hear we did intend:
+And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham.
+The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post:
+There, at your meet'st advantage of the time,
+Infer the bastardy of Edward's children:
+Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen,
+Only for saying he would make his son
+Heir to the crown; meaning indeed his house,
+Which, by the sign thereof was termed so.
+Moreover, urge his hateful luxury
+And bestial appetite in change of lust;
+Which stretched to their servants, daughters, wives,
+Even where his lustful eye or savage heart,
+Without control, listed to make his prey.
+Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person:
+Tell them, when that my mother went with child
+Of that unsatiate Edward, noble York
+My princely father then had wars in France
+And, by just computation of the time,
+Found that the issue was not his begot;
+Which well appeared in his lineaments,
+Being nothing like the noble duke my father:
+But touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off,
+Because you know, my lord, my mother lives.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Fear not, my lord, I'll play the orator
+As if the golden fee for which I plead
+Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle;
+Where you shall find me well accompanied
+With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+I go: and towards three or four o'clock
+Look for the news that the Guildhall affords.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw;
+Go thou to Friar Penker; bid them both
+Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle.
+Now will I in, to take some privy order,
+To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight;
+And to give notice, that no manner of person
+At any time have recourse unto the princes.
+
+Scrivener:
+This is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings;
+Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd,
+That it may be this day read over in Paul's.
+And mark how well the sequel hangs together:
+Eleven hours I spent to write it over,
+For yesternight by Catesby was it brought me;
+The precedent was full as long a-doing:
+And yet within these five hours lived Lord Hastings,
+Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty
+Here's a good world the while! Why who's so gross,
+That seeth not this palpable device?
+Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not?
+Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,
+When such bad dealings must be seen in thought.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+How now, my lord, what say the citizens?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Now, by the holy mother of our Lord,
+The citizens are mum and speak not a word.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy,
+And his contract by deputy in France;
+The insatiate greediness of his desires,
+And his enforcement of the city wives;
+His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,
+As being got, your father then in France,
+His resemblance, being not like the duke;
+Withal I did infer your lineaments,
+Being the right idea of your father,
+Both in your form and nobleness of mind;
+Laid open all your victories in Scotland,
+Your dicipline in war, wisdom in peace,
+Your bounty, virtue, fair humility:
+Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose
+Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse
+And when mine oratory grew to an end
+I bid them that did love their country's good
+Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal king!'
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Ah! and did they so?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+No, so God help me, they spake not a word;
+But, like dumb statues or breathing stones,
+Gazed each on other, and look'd deadly pale.
+Which when I saw, I reprehended them;
+And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence:
+His answer was, the people were not wont
+To be spoke to but by the recorder.
+Then he was urged to tell my tale again,
+'Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;'
+But nothing spake in warrant from himself.
+When he had done, some followers of mine own,
+At the lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps,
+And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!'
+And thus I took the vantage of those few,
+'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I;
+'This general applause and loving shout
+Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:'
+And even here brake off, and came away.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+What tongueless blocks were they! would not they speak?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+No, by my troth, my lord.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Will not the mayor then and his brethren come?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+The mayor is here at hand: intend some fear;
+Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit:
+And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
+And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord;
+For on that ground I'll build a holy descant:
+And be not easily won to our request:
+Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I go; and if you plead as well for them
+As I can say nay to thee for myself,
+No doubt well bring it to a happy issue.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks.
+Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here;
+I think the duke will not be spoke withal.
+Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby,
+What says he?
+
+CATESBY:
+My lord: he doth entreat your grace;
+To visit him to-morrow or next day:
+He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
+Divinely bent to meditation;
+And no worldly suit would he be moved,
+To draw him from his holy exercise.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again;
+Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens,
+In deep designs and matters of great moment,
+No less importing than our general good,
+Are come to have some conference with his grace.
+
+CATESBY:
+I'll tell him what you say, my lord.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!
+He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed,
+But on his knees at meditation;
+Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,
+But meditating with two deep divines;
+Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,
+But praying, to enrich his watchful soul:
+Happy were England, would this gracious prince
+Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:
+But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.
+
+Lord Mayor:
+Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay!
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+I fear he will.
+How now, Catesby, what says your lord?
+
+CATESBY:
+My lord,
+He wonders to what end you have assembled
+Such troops of citizens to speak with him,
+His grace not being warn'd thereof before:
+My lord, he fears you mean no good to him.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Sorry I am my noble cousin should
+Suspect me, that I mean no good to him:
+By heaven, I come in perfect love to him;
+And so once more return and tell his grace.
+When holy and devout religious men
+Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence,
+So sweet is zealous contemplation.
+
+Lord Mayor:
+See, where he stands between two clergymen!
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Two props of virtue for a Christian prince,
+To stay him from the fall of vanity:
+And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,
+True ornaments to know a holy man.
+Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,
+Lend favourable ears to our request;
+And pardon us the interruption
+Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+My lord, there needs no such apology:
+I rather do beseech you pardon me,
+Who, earnest in the service of my God,
+Neglect the visitation of my friends.
+But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,
+And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I do suspect I have done some offence
+That seems disgracious in the city's eyes,
+And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+You have, my lord: would it might please your grace,
+At our entreaties, to amend that fault!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Then know, it is your fault that you resign
+The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
+The scepter'd office of your ancestors,
+Your state of fortune and your due of birth,
+The lineal glory of your royal house,
+To the corruption of a blemished stock:
+Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,
+Which here we waken to our country's good,
+This noble isle doth want her proper limbs;
+Her face defaced with scars of infamy,
+Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
+And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf
+Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion.
+Which to recure, we heartily solicit
+Your gracious self to take on you the charge
+And kingly government of this your land,
+Not as protector, steward, substitute,
+Or lowly factor for another's gain;
+But as successively from blood to blood,
+Your right of birth, your empery, your own.
+For this, consorted with the citizens,
+Your very worshipful and loving friends,
+And by their vehement instigation,
+In this just suit come I to move your grace.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I know not whether to depart in silence,
+Or bitterly to speak in your reproof.
+Best fitteth my degree or your condition
+If not to answer, you might haply think
+Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
+To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
+Which fondly you would here impose on me;
+If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
+So season'd with your faithful love to me.
+Then, on the other side, I cheque'd my friends.
+Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first,
+And then, in speaking, not to incur the last,
+Definitively thus I answer you.
+Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert
+Unmeritable shuns your high request.
+First if all obstacles were cut away,
+And that my path were even to the crown,
+As my ripe revenue and due by birth
+Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
+So mighty and so many my defects,
+As I had rather hide me from my greatness,
+Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,
+Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
+And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
+But, God be thank'd, there's no need of me,
+And much I need to help you, if need were;
+The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
+Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
+Will well become the seat of majesty,
+And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
+On him I lay what you would lay on me,
+The right and fortune of his happy stars;
+Which God defend that I should wring from him!
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+My lord, this argues conscience in your grace;
+But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,
+All circumstances well considered.
+You say that Edward is your brother's son:
+So say we too, but not by Edward's wife;
+For first he was contract to Lady Lucy--
+Your mother lives a witness to that vow--
+And afterward by substitute betroth'd
+To Bona, sister to the King of France.
+These both put by a poor petitioner,
+A care-crazed mother of a many children,
+A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
+Even in the afternoon of her best days,
+Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye,
+Seduced the pitch and height of all his thoughts
+To base declension and loathed bigamy
+By her, in his unlawful bed, he got
+This Edward, whom our manners term the prince.
+More bitterly could I expostulate,
+Save that, for reverence to some alive,
+I give a sparing limit to my tongue.
+Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
+This proffer'd benefit of dignity;
+If non to bless us and the land withal,
+Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry
+From the corruption of abusing times,
+Unto a lineal true-derived course.
+
+Lord Mayor:
+Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.
+
+CATESBY:
+O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Alas, why would you heap these cares on me?
+I am unfit for state and majesty;
+I do beseech you, take it not amiss;
+I cannot nor I will not yield to you.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal,
+Loath to depose the child, Your brother's son;
+As well we know your tenderness of heart
+And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
+Which we have noted in you to your kin,
+And egally indeed to all estates,--
+Yet whether you accept our suit or no,
+Your brother's son shall never reign our king;
+But we will plant some other in the throne,
+To the disgrace and downfall of your house:
+And in this resolution here we leave you.--
+Come, citizens: 'zounds! I'll entreat no more.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham.
+
+CATESBY:
+Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit.
+
+ANOTHER:
+Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Would you enforce me to a world of care?
+Well, call them again. I am not made of stone,
+But penetrable to your. kind entreats,
+Albeit against my conscience and my soul.
+Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men,
+Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
+To bear her burthen, whether I will or no,
+I must have patience to endure the load:
+But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach
+Attend the sequel of your imposition,
+Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me
+From all the impure blots and stains thereof;
+For God he knows, and you may partly see,
+How far I am from the desire thereof.
+
+Lord Mayor:
+God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+In saying so, you shall but say the truth.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Then I salute you with this kingly title:
+Long live Richard, England's royal king!
+
+Lord Mayor:
+Amen.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Even when you please, since you will have it so.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace:
+And so most joyfully we take our leave.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Come, let us to our holy task again.
+Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Who meets us here?  my niece Plantagenet
+Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?
+Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower,
+On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes.
+Daughter, well met.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+God give your graces both
+A happy and a joyful time of day!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+As much to you, good sister! Whither away?
+
+LADY ANNE:
+No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess,
+Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
+To gratulate the gentle princes there.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together.
+And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.
+Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
+How doth the prince, and my young son of York?
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
+I may not suffer you to visit them;
+The king hath straitly charged the contrary.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+The king! why, who's that?
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+The Lord protect him from that kingly title!
+Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me?
+I am their mother; who should keep me from them?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I am their fathers mother; I will see them.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
+Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame
+And take thy office from thee, on my peril.
+
+BRAKENBURY:
+No, madam, no; I may not leave it so:
+I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.
+
+LORD STANLEY:
+Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,
+And I'll salute your grace of York as mother,
+And reverend looker on, of two fair queens.
+Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
+There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart
+May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon
+With this dead-killing news!
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!
+
+DORSET:
+Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence!
+Death and destruction dog thee at the heels;
+Thy mother's name is ominous to children.
+If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,
+And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell
+Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
+Lest thou increase the number of the dead;
+And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,
+Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.
+
+LORD STANLEY:
+Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam.
+Take all the swift advantage of the hours;
+You shall have letters from me to my son
+To meet you on the way, and welcome you.
+Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+O ill-dispersing wind of misery!
+O my accursed womb, the bed of death!
+A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
+Whose unavoided eye is murderous.
+
+LORD STANLEY:
+Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+And I in all unwillingness will go.
+I would to God that the inclusive verge
+Of golden metal that must round my brow
+Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain!
+Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
+And die, ere men can say, God save the queen!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory
+To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+No! why?  When he that is my husband now
+Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse,
+When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands
+Which issued from my other angel husband
+And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd;
+O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
+This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' accursed,
+For making me, so young, so old a widow!
+And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
+And be thy wife--if any be so mad--
+As miserable by the life of thee
+As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!
+Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
+Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
+Grossly grew captive to his honey words
+And proved the subject of my own soul's curse,
+Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest;
+For never yet one hour in his bed
+Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep,
+But have been waked by his timorous dreams.
+Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
+And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.
+
+LADY ANNE:
+No more than from my soul I mourn for yours.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!
+
+LADY ANNE:
+Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it!
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower.
+Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes
+Whom envy hath immured within your walls!
+Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
+Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow
+For tender princes, use my babies well!
+So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham!
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+My gracious sovereign?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Give me thy hand.
+Thus high, by thy advice
+And thy assistance, is King Richard seated;
+But shall we wear these honours for a day?
+Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Still live they and for ever may they last!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+O Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
+To try if thou be current gold indeed
+Young Edward lives: think now what I would say.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Say on, my loving lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king,
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+True, noble prince.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+O bitter consequence,
+That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!'
+Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull:
+Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
+And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
+What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Your grace may do your pleasure.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth:
+Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord
+Before I positively herein:
+I will resolve your grace immediately.
+
+CATESBY:
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+I will converse with iron-witted fools
+And unrespective boys: none are for me
+That look into me with considerate eyes:
+High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.
+Boy!
+
+Page:
+My lord?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
+Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?
+
+Page:
+My lord, I know a discontented gentleman,
+Whose humble means match not his haughty mind:
+Gold were as good as twenty orators,
+And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+What is his name?
+
+Page:
+His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+I partly know the man: go, call him hither.
+The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
+No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel:
+Hath he so long held out with me untired,
+And stops he now for breath?
+How now! what news with you?
+
+STANLEY:
+My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled
+To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea
+Where he abides.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Catesby!
+
+CATESBY:
+My lord?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Rumour it abroad
+That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die:
+I will take order for her keeping close.
+Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
+Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter:
+The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.
+Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out
+That Anne my wife is sick and like to die:
+About it; for it stands me much upon,
+To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.
+I must be married to my brother's daughter,
+Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.
+Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
+Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
+So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin:
+Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.
+Is thy name Tyrrel?
+
+TYRREL:
+James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Art thou, indeed?
+
+TYRREL:
+Prove me, my gracious sovereign.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?
+
+TYRREL:
+Ay, my lord;
+But I had rather kill two enemies.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies,
+Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers
+Are they that I would have thee deal upon:
+Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.
+
+TYRREL:
+Let me have open means to come to them,
+And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel
+Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear:
+There is no more but so: say it is done,
+And I will love thee, and prefer thee too.
+
+TYRREL:
+'Tis done, my gracious lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep?
+
+TYRREL:
+Ye shall, my Lord.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind
+The late demand that you did sound me in.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+I hear that news, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise,
+For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
+The earldom of Hereford and the moveables
+The which you promised I should possess.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
+Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+What says your highness to my just demand?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+As I remember, Henry the Sixth
+Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
+When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
+A king, perhaps, perhaps,--
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+My lord!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+How chance the prophet could not at that time
+Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+My lord, your promise for the earldom,--
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Richmond! When last I was at Exeter,
+The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
+And call'd it Rougemont: at which name I started,
+Because a bard of Ireland told me once
+I should not live long after I saw Richmond.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+My Lord!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Ay, what's o'clock?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
+Of what you promised me.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Well, but what's o'clock?
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Upon the stroke of ten.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Well, let it strike.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Why let it strike?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke
+Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
+I am not in the giving vein to-day.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Why, then resolve me whether you will or no.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Tut, tut,
+Thou troublest me; am not in the vein.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Is it even so? rewards he my true service
+With such deep contempt made I him king for this?
+O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
+To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on!
+
+TYRREL:
+The tyrannous and bloody deed is done.
+The most arch of piteous massacre
+That ever yet this land was guilty of.
+Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
+To do this ruthless piece of butchery,
+Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
+Melting with tenderness and kind compassion
+Wept like two children in their deaths' sad stories.
+'Lo, thus' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes:'
+'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another
+Within their innocent alabaster arms:
+Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
+Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other.
+A book of prayers on their pillow lay;
+Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost changed my mind;
+But O! the devil'--there the villain stopp'd
+Whilst Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered
+The most replenished sweet work of nature,
+That from the prime creation e'er she framed.'
+Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse;
+They could not speak; and so I left them both,
+To bring this tidings to the bloody king.
+And here he comes.
+All hail, my sovereign liege!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?
+
+TYRREL:
+If to have done the thing you gave in charge
+Beget your happiness, be happy then,
+For it is done, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+But didst thou see them dead?
+
+TYRREL:
+I did, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+And buried, gentle Tyrrel?
+
+TYRREL:
+The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
+But how or in what place I do not know.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper,
+And thou shalt tell the process of their death.
+Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
+And be inheritor of thy desire.
+Farewell till soon.
+The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
+His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;
+The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
+And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
+Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
+At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
+And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown,
+To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer.
+
+CATESBY:
+My lord!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly?
+
+CATESBY:
+Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond;
+And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,
+Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
+Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army.
+Come, I have heard that fearful commenting
+Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
+Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary
+Then fiery expedition be my wing,
+Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
+Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
+We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+So, now prosperity begins to mellow
+And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
+Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
+To watch the waning of mine adversaries.
+A dire induction am I witness to,
+And will to France, hoping the consequence
+Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
+Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes!
+My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
+If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
+And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
+Hover about me with your airy wings
+And hear your mother's lamentation!
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Hover about her; say, that right for right
+Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+So many miseries have crazed my voice,
+That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb,
+Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet.
+Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,
+And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
+When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost,
+Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd,
+Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
+Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
+Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave
+As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
+Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
+O, who hath any cause to mourn but I?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
+Give mine the benefit of seniory,
+And let my woes frown on the upper hand.
+If sorrow can admit society,
+Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:
+I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
+I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him:
+Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
+Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him;
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
+I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.
+From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
+A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death:
+That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
+To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood,
+That foul defacer of God's handiwork,
+That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
+That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
+Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.
+O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
+How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
+Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
+And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!
+God witness with me, I have wept for thine.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,
+And now I cloy me with beholding it.
+Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward:
+Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
+Young York he is but boot, because both they
+Match not the high perfection of my loss:
+Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward;
+And the beholders of this tragic play,
+The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
+Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
+Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
+Only reserved their factor, to buy souls
+And send them thither: but at hand, at hand,
+Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:
+Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray.
+To have him suddenly convey'd away.
+Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey,
+That I may live to say, The dog is dead!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+O, thou didst prophesy the time would come
+That I should wish for thee to help me curse
+That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad!
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune;
+I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen;
+The presentation of but what I was;
+The flattering index of a direful pageant;
+One heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below;
+A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes;
+A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble,
+A sign of dignity, a garish flag,
+To be the aim of every dangerous shot,
+A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
+Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
+Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy?
+Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'?
+Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
+Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
+Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
+For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
+For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
+For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
+For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
+For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
+For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
+For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
+Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
+And left thee but a very prey to time;
+Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
+To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
+Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
+Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
+Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke;
+From which even here I slip my weary neck,
+And leave the burthen of it all on thee.
+Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance:
+These English woes will make me smile in France.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile,
+And teach me how to curse mine enemies!
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days;
+Compare dead happiness with living woe;
+Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
+And he that slew them fouler than he is:
+Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse:
+Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine!
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Why should calamity be full of words?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Windy attorneys to their client woes,
+Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
+Poor breathing orators of miseries!
+Let them have scope: though what they do impart
+Help not all, yet do they ease the heart.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me.
+And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
+My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd.
+I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Who intercepts my expedition?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+O, she that might have intercepted thee,
+By strangling thee in her accursed womb
+From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown,
+Where should be graven, if that right were right,
+The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown,
+And the dire death of my two sons and brothers?
+Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?
+And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums!
+Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
+Rail on the Lord's enointed: strike, I say!
+Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
+Or with the clamorous report of war
+Thus will I drown your exclamations.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Art thou my son?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Then patiently hear my impatience.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
+Which cannot brook the accent of reproof.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+O, let me speak!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Do then: but I'll not hear.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I will be mild and gentle in my speech.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee,
+God knows, in anguish, pain and agony.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+And came I not at last to comfort you?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
+Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell.
+A grievous burthen was thy birth to me;
+Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
+Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious,
+Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous,
+Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody,
+treacherous,
+More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:
+What comfortable hour canst thou name,
+That ever graced me in thy company?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd
+your grace
+To breakfast once forth of my company.
+If I be so disgracious in your sight,
+Let me march on, and not offend your grace.
+Strike the drum.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I prithee, hear me speak.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+You speak too bitterly.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Hear me a word;
+For I shall never speak to thee again.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+So.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance,
+Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror,
+Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish
+And never look upon thy face again.
+Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse;
+Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more
+Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!
+My prayers on the adverse party fight;
+And there the little souls of Edward's children
+Whisper the spirits of thine enemies
+And promise them success and victory.
+Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;
+Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse
+Abides in me; I say amen to all.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+I have no more sons of the royal blood
+For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,
+They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;
+And therefore level not to hit their lives.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
+Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+And must she die for this? O, let her live,
+And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;
+Slander myself as false to Edward's bed;
+Throw over her the veil of infamy:
+So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
+I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+To save her life, I'll say she is not so.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Her life is only safest in her birth.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+And only in that safety died her brothers.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Lo, at their births good stars were opposite.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+All unavoided is the doom of destiny.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+True, when avoided grace makes destiny:
+My babes were destined to a fairer death,
+If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd
+Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
+Whose hand soever lanced their tender hearts,
+Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:
+No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt
+Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
+To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
+But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
+My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
+Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
+And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
+Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
+Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
+And dangerous success of bloody wars,
+As I intend more good to you and yours,
+Than ever you or yours were by me wrong'd!
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,
+To be discover'd, that can do me good?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+The advancement of your children, gentle lady.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+No, to the dignity and height of honour
+The high imperial type of this earth's glory.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Flatter my sorrows with report of it;
+Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,
+Canst thou demise to any child of mine?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Even all I have; yea, and myself and all,
+Will I withal endow a child of thine;
+So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
+Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs
+Which thou supposest I have done to thee.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Be brief, lest that be process of thy kindness
+Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+What do you think?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul:
+So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers;
+And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
+I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
+And mean to make her queen of England.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Even he that makes her queen who should be else?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+What, thou?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+I, even I: what think you of it, madam?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+How canst thou woo her?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+That would I learn of you,
+As one that are best acquainted with her humour.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+And wilt thou learn of me?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Madam, with all my heart.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers,
+A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave
+Edward and York; then haply she will weep:
+Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret
+Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,--
+A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
+The purple sap from her sweet brother's body
+And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith.
+If this inducement force her not to love,
+Send her a story of thy noble acts;
+Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence,
+Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake,
+Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way
+To win our daughter.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+There is no other way
+Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,
+And not be Richard that hath done all this.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Say that I did all this for love of her.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee,
+Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Look, what is done cannot be now amended:
+Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
+Which after hours give leisure to repent.
+If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
+To make amends, Ill give it to your daughter.
+If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,
+To quicken your increase, I will beget
+Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter
+A grandam's name is little less in love
+Than is the doting title of a mother;
+They are as children but one step below,
+Even of your mettle, of your very blood;
+Of an one pain, save for a night of groans
+Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
+Your children were vexation to your youth,
+But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
+The loss you have is but a son being king,
+And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
+I cannot make you what amends I would,
+Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
+Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
+Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
+This fair alliance quickly shall call home
+To high promotions and great dignity:
+The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife.
+Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother;
+Again shall you be mother to a king,
+And all the ruins of distressful times
+Repair'd with double riches of content.
+What! we have many goodly days to see:
+The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
+Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl,
+Advantaging their loan with interest
+Of ten times double gain of happiness.
+Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go
+Make bold her bashful years with your experience;
+Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale
+Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
+Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess
+With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys
+And when this arm of mine hath chastised
+The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
+Bound with triumphant garlands will I come
+And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;
+To whom I will retail my conquest won,
+And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+What were I best to say? her father's brother
+Would be her lord? or shall I say, her uncle?
+Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
+Under what title shall I woo for thee,
+That God, the law, my honour and her love,
+Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Which she shall purchase with still lasting war.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Say that the king, which may command, entreats.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+That at her hands which the king's King forbids.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+To wail the tide, as her mother doth.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Say, I will love her everlastingly.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+But how long shall that title 'ever' last?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+But how long fairly shall her sweet lie last?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+So long as heaven and nature lengthens it.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+So long as hell and Richard likes of it.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Be eloquent in my behalf to her.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+O no, my reasons are too deep and dead;
+Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Harp not on that string, madam; that is past.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,--
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+I swear--
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+By nothing; for this is no oath:
+The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour;
+The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue;
+The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory.
+if something thou wilt swear to be believed,
+Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Now, by the world--
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+My father's death--
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Thy life hath that dishonour'd.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Then, by myself--
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Thyself thyself misusest.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Why then, by God--
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+God's wrong is most of all.
+If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
+The unity the king thy brother made
+Had not been broken, nor my brother slain:
+If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
+The imperial metal, circling now thy brow,
+Had graced the tender temples of my child,
+And both the princes had been breathing here,
+Which now, two tender playfellows to dust,
+Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
+What canst thou swear by now?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+The time to come.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast;
+For I myself have many tears to wash
+Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee.
+The children live, whose parents thou hast
+slaughter'd,
+Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age;
+The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd,
+Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age.
+Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
+Misused ere used, by time misused o'erpast.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+As I intend to prosper and repent,
+So thrive I in my dangerous attempt
+Of hostile arms! myself myself confound!
+Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours!
+Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest!
+Be opposite all planets of good luck
+To my proceedings, if, with pure heart's love,
+Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
+I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter!
+In her consists my happiness and thine;
+Without her, follows to this land and me,
+To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul,
+Death, desolation, ruin and decay:
+It cannot be avoided but by this;
+It will not be avoided but by this.
+Therefore, good mother,--I must can you so--
+Be the attorney of my love to her:
+Plead what I will be, not what I have been;
+Not my deserts, but what I will deserve:
+Urge the necessity and state of times,
+And be not peevish-fond in great designs.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Shall I forget myself to be myself?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+But thou didst kill my children.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+But in your daughter's womb I bury them:
+Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed
+Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+And be a happy mother by the deed.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+I go. Write to me very shortly.
+And you shall understand from me her mind.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell.
+Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!
+How now! what news?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+My gracious sovereign, on the western coast
+Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore
+Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
+Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back:
+'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral;
+And there they hull, expecting but the aid
+Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:
+Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he?
+
+CATESBY:
+Here, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Fly to the duke:
+Post thou to Salisbury
+When thou comest thither--
+Dull, unmindful villain,
+Why stand'st thou still, and go'st not to the duke?
+
+CATESBY:
+First, mighty sovereign, let me know your mind,
+What from your grace I shall deliver to him.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+O, true, good Catesby: bid him levy straight
+The greatest strength and power he can make,
+And meet me presently at Salisbury.
+
+CATESBY:
+I go.
+
+RATCLIFF:
+What is't your highness' pleasure I shall do at
+Salisbury?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Your highness told me I should post before.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed.
+How now, what news with you?
+
+STANLEY:
+None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing;
+Nor none so bad, but it may well be told.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad!
+Why dost thou run so many mile about,
+When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way?
+Once more, what news?
+
+STANLEY:
+Richmond is on the seas.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+There let him sink, and be the seas on him!
+White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?
+
+STANLEY:
+I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Well, sir, as you guess, as you guess?
+
+STANLEY:
+Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Ely,
+He makes for England, there to claim the crown.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd?
+Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd?
+What heir of York is there alive but we?
+And who is England's king but great York's heir?
+Then, tell me, what doth he upon the sea?
+
+STANLEY:
+Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Unless for that he comes to be your liege,
+You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes.
+Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear.
+
+STANLEY:
+No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Where is thy power, then, to beat him back?
+Where are thy tenants and thy followers?
+Are they not now upon the western shore.
+Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships!
+
+STANLEY:
+No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north,
+When they should serve their sovereign in the west?
+
+STANLEY:
+They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign:
+Please it your majesty to give me leave,
+I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace
+Where and what time your majesty shall please.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond:
+I will not trust you, sir.
+
+STANLEY:
+Most mighty sovereign,
+You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful:
+I never was nor never will be false.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Well,
+Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind
+Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be firm.
+Or else his head's assurance is but frail.
+
+STANLEY:
+So deal with him as I prove true to you.
+
+Messenger:
+My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
+As I by friends am well advertised,
+Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate
+Bishop of Exeter, his brother there,
+With many more confederates, are in arms.
+
+Second Messenger:
+My liege, in Kent the Guildfords are in arms;
+And every hour more competitors
+Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth.
+
+Third Messenger:
+My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham--
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death?
+Take that, until thou bring me better news.
+
+Third Messenger:
+The news I have to tell your majesty
+Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters,
+Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter'd;
+And he himself wander'd away alone,
+No man knows whither.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+I cry thee mercy:
+There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
+Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
+Reward to him that brings the traitor in?
+
+Third Messenger:
+Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.
+
+Fourth Messenger:
+Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset,
+'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
+Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace,
+The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest:
+Richmond, in Yorkshire, sent out a boat
+Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks
+If they were his assistants, yea or no;
+Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham.
+Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,
+Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+March on, march on, since we are up in arms;
+If not to fight with foreign enemies,
+Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.
+
+CATESBY:
+My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken;
+That is the best news: that the Earl of Richmond
+Is with a mighty power landed at Milford,
+Is colder tidings, yet they must be told.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Away towards Salisbury! while we reason here,
+A royal battle might be won and lost
+Some one take order Buckingham be brought
+To Salisbury; the rest march on with me.
+
+DERBY:
+Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:
+That in the sty of this most bloody boar
+My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold:
+If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
+The fear of that withholds my present aid.
+But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?
+
+CHRISTOPHER:
+At Pembroke, or at Harford-west, in Wales.
+
+DERBY:
+What men of name resort to him?
+
+CHRISTOPHER:
+Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
+Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley;
+Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
+And Rice ap Thomas with a valiant crew;
+And many more of noble fame and worth:
+And towards London they do bend their course,
+If by the way they be not fought withal.
+
+DERBY:
+Return unto thy lord; commend me to him:
+Tell him the queen hath heartily consented
+He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
+These letters will resolve him of my mind. Farewell.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Will not King Richard let me speak with him?
+
+Sheriff:
+No, my good lord; therefore be patient.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey,
+Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
+Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
+By underhand corrupted foul injustice,
+If that your moody discontented souls
+Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
+Even for revenge mock my destruction!
+This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not?
+
+Sheriff:
+It is, my lord.
+
+BUCKINGHAM:
+Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday.
+This is the day that, in King Edward's time,
+I wish't might fall on me, when I was found
+False to his children or his wife's allies
+This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall
+By the false faith of him I trusted most;
+This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
+Is the determined respite of my wrongs:
+That high All-Seer that I dallied with
+Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head
+And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
+Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
+To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms:
+Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head;
+'When he,' quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow,
+Remember Margaret was a prophetess.'
+Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame;
+Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
+
+RICHMOND:
+Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends,
+Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny,
+Thus far into the bowels of the land
+Have we march'd on without impediment;
+And here receive we from our father Stanley
+Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.
+The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,
+That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines,
+Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough
+In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine
+Lies now even in the centre of this isle,
+Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn
+From Tamworth thither is but one day's march.
+In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
+To reap the harvest of perpetual peace
+By this one bloody trial of sharp war.
+
+OXFORD:
+Every man's conscience is a thousand swords,
+To fight against that bloody homicide.
+
+HERBERT:
+I doubt not but his friends will fly to us.
+
+BLUNT:
+He hath no friends but who are friends for fear.
+Which in his greatest need will shrink from him.
+
+RICHMOND:
+All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march:
+True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings:
+Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field.
+My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?
+
+SURREY:
+My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+My Lord of Norfolk,--
+
+NORFOLK:
+Here, most gracious liege.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not?
+
+NORFOLK:
+We must both give and take, my gracious lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Up with my tent there! here will I lie tonight;
+But where to-morrow?  Well, all's one for that.
+Who hath descried the number of the foe?
+
+NORFOLK:
+Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Why, our battalion trebles that account:
+Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
+Which they upon the adverse party want.
+Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen,
+Let us survey the vantage of the field
+Call for some men of sound direction
+Let's want no discipline, make no delay,
+For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day.
+
+RICHMOND:
+The weary sun hath made a golden set,
+And by the bright track of his fiery car,
+Gives signal, of a goodly day to-morrow.
+Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.
+Give me some ink and paper in my tent
+I'll draw the form and model of our battle,
+Limit each leader to his several charge,
+And part in just proportion our small strength.
+My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon,
+And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me.
+The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment:
+Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him
+And by the second hour in the morning
+Desire the earl to see me in my tent:
+Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou go'st,
+Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know?
+
+BLUNT:
+Unless I have mista'en his colours much,
+Which well I am assured I have not done,
+His regiment lies half a mile at least
+South from the mighty power of the king.
+
+RICHMOND:
+If without peril it be possible,
+Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him,
+And give him from me this most needful scroll.
+
+BLUNT:
+Upon my life, my lord, I'll under-take it;
+And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!
+
+RICHMOND:
+Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come gentlemen,
+Let us consult upon to-morrow's business
+In to our tent; the air is raw and cold.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+What is't o'clock?
+
+CATESBY:
+It's supper-time, my lord;
+It's nine o'clock.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+I will not sup to-night.
+Give me some ink and paper.
+What, is my beaver easier than it was?
+And all my armour laid into my tent?
+
+CATESBY:
+If is, my liege; and all things are in readiness.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;
+Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.
+
+NORFOLK:
+I go, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk.
+
+NORFOLK:
+I warrant you, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Catesby!
+
+CATESBY:
+My lord?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Send out a pursuivant at arms
+To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power
+Before sunrising, lest his son George fall
+Into the blind cave of eternal night.
+Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch.
+Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow.
+Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy.
+Ratcliff!
+
+RATCLIFF:
+My lord?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself,
+Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop
+Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine:
+I have not that alacrity of spirit,
+Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.
+Set it down. Is ink and paper ready?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+It is, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Bid my guard watch; leave me.
+Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent
+And help to arm me. Leave me, I say.
+
+DERBY:
+Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!
+
+RICHMOND:
+All comfort that the dark night can afford
+Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!
+Tell me, how fares our loving mother?
+
+DERBY:
+I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother
+Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
+So much for that. The silent hours steal on,
+And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
+In brief,--for so the season bids us be,--
+Prepare thy battle early in the morning,
+And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
+Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war.
+I, as I may--that which I would I cannot,--
+With best advantage will deceive the time,
+And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms:
+But on thy side I may not be too forward
+Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,
+Be executed in his father's sight.
+Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time
+Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love
+And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
+Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon:
+God give us leisure for these rites of love!
+Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well!
+
+RICHMOND:
+Good lords, conduct him to his regiment:
+I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap,
+Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow,
+When I should mount with wings of victory:
+Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.
+O Thou, whose captain I account myself,
+Look on my forces with a gracious eye;
+Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,
+That they may crush down with a heavy fall
+The usurping helmets of our adversaries!
+Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
+That we may praise thee in the victory!
+To thee I do commend my watchful soul,
+Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes:
+Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still!
+
+Ghost of Prince Edward:
+
+Ghost of King Henry VI:
+
+Ghost of CLARENCE:
+
+Ghost of RIVERS:
+
+Ghost of GREY:
+
+Ghost of VAUGHAN:
+
+All:
+
+Ghost of HASTINGS:
+
+Ghosts of young Princes:
+
+Ghost of LADY ANNE:
+
+Ghost of BUCKINGHAM:
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Give me another horse: bind up my wounds.
+Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft! I did but dream.
+O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
+The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight.
+Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
+What do I fear?  myself?  there's none else by:
+Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
+Is there a murderer here?  No. Yes, I am:
+Then fly. What, from myself?   Great reason why:
+Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself?
+Alack. I love myself. Wherefore?  for any good
+That I myself have done unto myself?
+O, no! alas, I rather hate myself
+For hateful deeds committed by myself!
+I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not.
+Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter.
+My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
+And every tongue brings in a several tale,
+And every tale condemns me for a villain.
+Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree
+Murder, stem murder, in the direst degree;
+All several sins, all used in each degree,
+Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty!
+I shall despair. There is no creature loves me;
+And if I die, no soul shall pity me:
+Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself
+Find in myself no pity to myself?
+Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd
+Came to my tent; and every one did threat
+To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.
+
+RATCLIFF:
+My lord!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+'Zounds! who is there?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early village-cock
+Hath twice done salutation to the morn;
+Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream!
+What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+No doubt, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,--
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
+Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
+Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
+Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.
+It is not yet near day. Come, go with me;
+Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper,
+To see if any mean to shrink from me.
+
+LORDS:
+Good morrow, Richmond!
+
+RICHMOND:
+Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen,
+That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.
+
+LORDS:
+How have you slept, my lord?
+
+RICHMOND:
+The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams
+That ever enter'd in a drowsy head,
+Have I since your departure had, my lords.
+Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd,
+Came to my tent, and cried on victory:
+I promise you, my soul is very jocund
+In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
+How far into the morning is it, lords?
+
+LORDS:
+Upon the stroke of four.
+
+RICHMOND:
+Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction.
+More than I have said, loving countrymen,
+The leisure and enforcement of the time
+Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this,
+God and our good cause fight upon our side;
+The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls,
+Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces;
+Richard except, those whom we fight against
+Had rather have us win than him they follow:
+For what is he they follow?  truly, gentlemen,
+A bloody tyrant and a homicide;
+One raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
+One that made means to come by what he hath,
+And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him;
+Abase foul stone, made precious by the foil
+Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;
+One that hath ever been God's enemy:
+Then, if you fight against God's enemy,
+God will in justice ward you as his soldiers;
+If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
+You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain;
+If you do fight against your country's foes,
+Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire;
+If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
+Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors;
+If you do free your children from the sword,
+Your children's children quit it in your age.
+Then, in the name of God and all these rights,
+Advance your standards, draw your willing swords.
+For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
+Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face;
+But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
+The least of you shall share his part thereof.
+Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully;
+God and Saint George! Richmond and victory!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+That he was never trained up in arms.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+He smiled and said 'The better for our purpose.'
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+He was in the right; and so indeed it is.
+Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar.
+Who saw the sun to-day?
+
+RATCLIFF:
+Not I, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Then he disdains to shine; for by the book
+He should have braved the east an hour ago
+A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff!
+
+RATCLIFF:
+My lord?
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+The sun will not be seen to-day;
+The sky doth frown and lour upon our army.
+I would these dewy tears were from the ground.
+Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me
+More than to Richmond?  for the selfsame heaven
+That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.
+
+NORFOLK:
+Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse.
+Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:
+I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
+And thus my battle shall be ordered:
+My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,
+Consisting equally of horse and foot;
+Our archers shall be placed in the midst
+John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
+Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.
+They thus directed, we will follow
+In the main battle, whose puissance on either side
+Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.
+This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st thou, Norfolk?
+
+NORFOLK:
+A good direction, warlike sovereign.
+This found I on my tent this morning.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+
+Messenger:
+My lord, he doth deny to come.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Off with his son George's head!
+
+NORFOLK:
+My lord, the enemy is past the marsh
+After the battle let George Stanley die.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+A thousand hearts are great within my bosom:
+Advance our standards, set upon our foes
+Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
+Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
+Upon them! victory sits on our helms.
+
+CATESBY:
+Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue!
+The king enacts more wonders than a man,
+Daring an opposite to every danger:
+His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
+Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
+Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
+
+CATESBY:
+Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse.
+
+KING RICHARD III:
+Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,
+And I will stand the hazard of the die:
+I think there be six Richmonds in the field;
+Five have I slain to-day instead of him.
+A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
+
+RICHMOND:
+God and your arms be praised, victorious friends,
+The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.
+
+DERBY:
+Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee.
+Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty
+From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
+Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal:
+Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.
+
+RICHMOND:
+Great God of heaven, say Amen to all!
+But, tell me, is young George Stanley living?
+
+DERBY:
+He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town;
+Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us.
+
+RICHMOND:
+What men of name are slain on either side?
+
+DERBY:
+John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers,
+Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.
+
+RICHMOND:
+Inter their bodies as becomes their births:
+Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled
+That in submission will return to us:
+And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,
+We will unite the white rose and the red:
+Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
+That long have frown'd upon their enmity!
+What traitor hears me, and says not amen?
+England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself;
+The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
+The father rashly slaughter'd his own son,
+The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire:
+All this divided York and Lancaster,
+Divided in their dire division,
+O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,
+The true succeeders of each royal house,
+By God's fair ordinance conjoin together!
+And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so.
+Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace,
+With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days!
+Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,
+That would reduce these bloody days again,
+And make poor England weep in streams of blood!
+Let them not live to taste this land's increase
+That would with treason wound this fair land's peace!
+Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again:
+That she may long live here, God say amen!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,
+Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
+Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son,
+Here to make good the boisterous late appeal,
+Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
+Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+I have, my liege.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,
+If he appeal the duke on ancient malice;
+Or worthily, as a good subject should,
+On some known ground of treachery in him?
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+As near as I could sift him on that argument,
+On some apparent danger seen in him
+Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Then call them to our presence; face to face,
+And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
+The accuser and the accused freely speak:
+High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
+In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Many years of happy days befal
+My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+Each day still better other's happiness;
+Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
+Add an immortal title to your crown!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+We thank you both: yet one but flatters us,
+As well appeareth by the cause you come;
+Namely to appeal each other of high treason.
+Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object
+Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+First, heaven be the record to my speech!
+In the devotion of a subject's love,
+Tendering the precious safety of my prince,
+And free from other misbegotten hate,
+Come I appellant to this princely presence.
+Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,
+And mark my greeting well; for what I speak
+My body shall make good upon this earth,
+Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.
+Thou art a traitor and a miscreant,
+Too good to be so and too bad to live,
+Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,
+The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
+Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
+With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;
+And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move,
+What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal:
+'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,
+The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
+Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain;
+The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this:
+Yet can I not of such tame patience boast
+As to be hush'd and nought at all to say:
+First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
+From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
+Which else would post until it had return'd
+These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
+Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
+And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
+I do defy him, and I spit at him;
+Call him a slanderous coward and a villain:
+Which to maintain I would allow him odds,
+And meet him, were I tied to run afoot
+Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
+Or any other ground inhabitable,
+Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.
+Mean time let this defend my loyalty,
+By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,
+Disclaiming here the kindred of the king,
+And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
+Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except.
+If guilty dread have left thee so much strength
+As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop:
+By that and all the rites of knighthood else,
+Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
+What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+I take it up; and by that sword I swear
+Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,
+I'll answer thee in any fair degree,
+Or chivalrous design of knightly trial:
+And when I mount, alive may I not light,
+If I be traitor or unjustly fight!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge?
+It must be great that can inherit us
+So much as of a thought of ill in him.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true;
+That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles
+In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers,
+The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,
+Like a false traitor and injurious villain.
+Besides I say and will in battle prove,
+Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge
+That ever was survey'd by English eye,
+That all the treasons for these eighteen years
+Complotted and contrived in this land
+Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.
+Further I say and further will maintain
+Upon his bad life to make all this good,
+That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death,
+Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,
+And consequently, like a traitor coward,
+Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood:
+Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,
+Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,
+To me for justice and rough chastisement;
+And, by the glorious worth of my descent,
+This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+How high a pitch his resolution soars!
+Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+O, let my sovereign turn away his face
+And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
+Till I have told this slander of his blood,
+How God and good men hate so foul a liar.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears:
+Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,
+As he is but my father's brother's son,
+Now, by my sceptre's awe, I make a vow,
+Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
+Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
+The unstooping firmness of my upright soul:
+He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou:
+Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
+Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.
+Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais
+Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers;
+The other part reserved I by consent,
+For that my sovereign liege was in my debt
+Upon remainder of a dear account,
+Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:
+Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death,
+I slew him not; but to my own disgrace
+Neglected my sworn duty in that case.
+For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster,
+The honourable father to my foe
+Once did I lay an ambush for your life,
+A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul
+But ere I last received the sacrament
+I did confess it, and exactly begg'd
+Your grace's pardon, and I hope I had it.
+This is my fault: as for the rest appeall'd,
+It issues from the rancour of a villain,
+A recreant and most degenerate traitor
+Which in myself I boldly will defend;
+And interchangeably hurl down my gage
+Upon this overweening traitor's foot,
+To prove myself a loyal gentleman
+Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom.
+In haste whereof, most heartily I pray
+Your highness to assign our trial day.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me;
+Let's purge this choler without letting blood:
+This we prescribe, though no physician;
+Deep malice makes too deep incision;
+Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed;
+Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.
+Good uncle, let this end where it begun;
+We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+To be a make-peace shall become my age:
+Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+And, Norfolk, throw down his.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+When, Harry, when?
+Obedience bids I should not bid again.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot.
+My life thou shalt command, but not my shame:
+The one my duty owes; but my fair name,
+Despite of death that lives upon my grave,
+To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.
+I am disgraced, impeach'd and baffled here,
+Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear,
+The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood
+Which breathed this poison.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Rage must be withstood:
+Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame.
+And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,
+The purest treasure mortal times afford
+Is spotless reputation: that away,
+Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.
+A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest
+Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
+Mine honour is my life; both grow in one:
+Take honour from me, and my life is done:
+Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;
+In that I live and for that will I die.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+O, God defend my soul from such deep sin!
+Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight?
+Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height
+Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue
+Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong,
+Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear
+The slavish motive of recanting fear,
+And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,
+Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+We were not born to sue, but to command;
+Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
+Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
+At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day:
+There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
+The swelling difference of your settled hate:
+Since we can not atone you, we shall see
+Justice design the victor's chivalry.
+Lord marshal, command our officers at arms
+Be ready to direct these home alarms.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood
+Doth more solicit me than your exclaims,
+To stir against the butchers of his life!
+But since correction lieth in those hands
+Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
+Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
+Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth,
+Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
+
+DUCHESS:
+Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
+Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
+Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
+Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,
+Or seven fair branches springing from one root:
+Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
+Some of those branches by the Destinies cut;
+But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester,
+One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,
+One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
+Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt,
+Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
+By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe.
+Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb,
+That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee
+Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest,
+Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
+In some large measure to thy father's death,
+In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
+Who was the model of thy father's life.
+Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:
+In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
+Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life,
+Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
+That which in mean men we intitle patience
+Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
+What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
+The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute,
+His deputy anointed in His sight,
+Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully,
+Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift
+An angry arm against His minister.
+
+DUCHESS:
+Where then, alas, may I complain myself?
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+To God, the widow's champion and defence.
+
+DUCHESS:
+Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.
+Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold
+Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight:
+O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear,
+That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!
+Or, if misfortune miss the first career,
+Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,
+They may break his foaming courser's back,
+And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
+A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford!
+Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's wife
+With her companion grief must end her life.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry:
+As much good stay with thee as go with me!
+
+DUCHESS:
+Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls,
+Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:
+I take my leave before I have begun,
+For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.
+Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York.
+Lo, this is all:--nay, yet depart not so;
+Though this be all, do not so quickly go;
+I shall remember more. Bid him--ah, what?--
+With all good speed at Plashy visit me.
+Alack, and what shall good old York there see
+But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,
+Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?
+And what hear there for welcome but my groans?
+Therefore commend me; let him not come there,
+To seek out sorrow that dwells every where.
+Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die:
+The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
+Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Why, then, the champions are prepared, and stay
+For nothing but his majesty's approach.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Marshal, demand of yonder champion
+The cause of his arrival here in arms:
+Ask him his name and orderly proceed
+To swear him in the justice of his cause.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+In God's name and the king's, say who thou art
+And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms,
+Against what man thou comest, and what thy quarrel:
+Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath;
+As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk;
+Who hither come engaged by my oath--
+Which God defend a knight should violate!--
+Both to defend my loyalty and truth
+To God, my king and my succeeding issue,
+Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me
+And, by the grace of God and this mine arm,
+To prove him, in defending of myself,
+A traitor to my God, my king, and me:
+And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,
+Both who he is and why he cometh hither
+Thus plated in habiliments of war,
+And formally, according to our law,
+Depose him in the justice of his cause.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither,
+Before King Richard in his royal lists?
+Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?
+Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby
+Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,
+To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour,
+In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
+That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous,
+To God of heaven, King Richard and to me;
+And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
+
+Lord Marshal:
+On pain of death, no person be so bold
+Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists,
+Except the marshal and such officers
+Appointed to direct these fair designs.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand,
+And bow my knee before his majesty:
+For Mowbray and myself are like two men
+That vow a long and weary pilgrimage;
+Then let us take a ceremonious leave
+And loving farewell of our several friends.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+The appellant in all duty greets your highness,
+And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+We will descend and fold him in our arms.
+Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,
+So be thy fortune in this royal fight!
+Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed,
+Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+O let no noble eye profane a tear
+For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear:
+As confident as is the falcon's flight
+Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
+My loving lord, I take my leave of you;
+Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle;
+Not sick, although I have to do with death,
+But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.
+Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
+The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet:
+O thou, the earthly author of my blood,
+Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,
+Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up
+To reach at victory above my head,
+Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers;
+And with thy blessings steel my lance's point,
+That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat,
+And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt,
+Even in the lusty havior of his son.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+God in thy good cause make thee prosperous!
+Be swift like lightning in the execution;
+And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
+Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
+Of thy adverse pernicious enemy:
+Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive!
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+However God or fortune cast my lot,
+There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne,
+A loyal, just and upright gentleman:
+Never did captive with a freer heart
+Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace
+His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement,
+More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
+This feast of battle with mine adversary.
+Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
+Take from my mouth the wish of happy years:
+As gentle and as jocund as to jest
+Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Farewell, my lord: securely I espy
+Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
+Order the trial, marshal, and begin.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
+Receive thy lance; and God defend the right!
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.
+
+First Herald:
+Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
+Stands here for God, his sovereign and himself,
+On pain to be found false and recreant,
+To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
+A traitor to his God, his king and him;
+And dares him to set forward to the fight.
+
+Second Herald:
+Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
+On pain to be found false and recreant,
+Both to defend himself and to approve
+Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
+To God, his sovereign and to him disloyal;
+Courageously and with a free desire
+Attending but the signal to begin.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants.
+Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
+And both return back to their chairs again:
+Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound
+While we return these dukes what we decree.
+Draw near,
+And list what with our council we have done.
+For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
+With that dear blood which it hath fostered;
+And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
+Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword;
+And for we think the eagle-winged pride
+Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
+With rival-hating envy, set on you
+To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle
+Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;
+Which so roused up with boisterous untuned drums,
+With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray,
+And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
+Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace
+And make us wade even in our kindred's blood,
+Therefore, we banish you our territories:
+You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,
+Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields
+Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
+But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Your will be done: this must my comfort be,
+Sun that warms you here shall shine on me;
+And those his golden beams to you here lent
+Shall point on me and gild my banishment.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
+Which I with some unwillingness pronounce:
+The sly slow hours shall not determinate
+The dateless limit of thy dear exile;
+The hopeless word of 'never to return'
+Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
+And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth:
+A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
+As to be cast forth in the common air,
+Have I deserved at your highness' hands.
+The language I have learn'd these forty years,
+My native English, now I must forego:
+And now my tongue's use is to me no more
+Than an unstringed viol or a harp,
+Or like a cunning instrument cased up,
+Or, being open, put into his hands
+That knows no touch to tune the harmony:
+Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue,
+Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips;
+And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
+Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
+I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
+Too far in years to be a pupil now:
+What is thy sentence then but speechless death,
+Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+It boots thee not to be compassionate:
+After our sentence plaining comes too late.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+Then thus I turn me from my country's light,
+To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Return again, and take an oath with thee.
+Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands;
+Swear by the duty that you owe to God--
+Our part therein we banish with yourselves--
+To keep the oath that we administer:
+You never shall, so help you truth and God!
+Embrace each other's love in banishment;
+Nor never look upon each other's face;
+Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
+This louring tempest of your home-bred hate;
+Nor never by advised purpose meet
+To plot, contrive, or complot any ill
+'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+I swear.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+And I, to keep all this.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:--
+By this time, had the king permitted us,
+One of our souls had wander'd in the air.
+Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
+As now our flesh is banish'd from this land:
+Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm;
+Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
+The clogging burthen of a guilty soul.
+
+THOMAS MOWBRAY:
+No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor,
+My name be blotted from the book of life,
+And I from heaven banish'd as from hence!
+But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know;
+And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.
+Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray;
+Save back to England, all the world's my way.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
+I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect
+Hath from the number of his banish'd years
+Pluck'd four away.
+Six frozen winter spent,
+Return with welcome home from banishment.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+How long a time lies in one little word!
+Four lagging winters and four wanton springs
+End in a word: such is the breath of kings.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+I thank my liege, that in regard of me
+He shortens four years of my son's exile:
+But little vantage shall I reap thereby;
+For, ere the six years that he hath to spend
+Can change their moons and bring their times about
+My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light
+Shall be extinct with age and endless night;
+My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
+And blindfold death not let me see my son.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Why uncle, thou hast many years to live.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+But not a minute, king, that thou canst give:
+Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
+And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow;
+Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
+But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage;
+Thy word is current with him for my death,
+But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Thy son is banish'd upon good advice,
+Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave:
+Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour?
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
+You urged me as a judge; but I had rather
+You would have bid me argue like a father.
+O, had it been a stranger, not my child,
+To smooth his fault I should have been more mild:
+A partial slander sought I to avoid,
+And in the sentence my own life destroy'd.
+Alas, I look'd when some of you should say,
+I was too strict to make mine own away;
+But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue
+Against my will to do myself this wrong.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so:
+Six years we banish him, and he shall go.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know,
+From where you do remain let paper show.
+
+Lord Marshal:
+My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride,
+As far as land will let me, by your side.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,
+That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends?
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+I have too few to take my leave of you,
+When the tongue's office should be prodigal
+To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+What is six winters? they are quickly gone.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Call it a travel that thou takest for pleasure.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+My heart will sigh when I miscall it so,
+Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+The sullen passage of thy weary steps
+Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set
+The precious jewel of thy home return.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make
+Will but remember me what a deal of world
+I wander from the jewels that I love.
+Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
+To foreign passages, and in the end,
+Having my freedom, boast of nothing else
+But that I was a journeyman to grief?
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+All places that the eye of heaven visits
+Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
+Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
+There is no virtue like necessity.
+Think not the king did banish thee,
+But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit,
+Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
+Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour
+And not the king exiled thee; or suppose
+Devouring pestilence hangs in our air
+And thou art flying to a fresher clime:
+Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
+To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou comest:
+Suppose the singing birds musicians,
+The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd,
+The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more
+Than a delightful measure or a dance;
+For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
+The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+O, who can hold a fire in his hand
+By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
+Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
+By bare imagination of a feast?
+Or wallow naked in December snow
+By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
+O, no! the apprehension of the good
+Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
+Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more
+Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way:
+Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu;
+My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
+Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,
+Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+We did observe. Cousin Aumerle,
+How far brought you high Hereford on his way?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,
+But to the next highway, and there I left him.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+And say, what store of parting tears were shed?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind,
+Which then blew bitterly against our faces,
+Awaked the sleeping rheum, and so by chance
+Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+What said our cousin when you parted with him?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+'Farewell:'
+And, for my heart disdained that my tongue
+Should so profane the word, that taught me craft
+To counterfeit oppression of such grief
+That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave.
+Marry, would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours
+And added years to his short banishment,
+He should have had a volume of farewells;
+But since it would not, he had none of me.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt,
+When time shall call him home from banishment,
+Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
+Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green
+Observed his courtship to the common people;
+How he did seem to dive into their hearts
+With humble and familiar courtesy,
+What reverence he did throw away on slaves,
+Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles
+And patient underbearing of his fortune,
+As 'twere to banish their affects with him.
+Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;
+A brace of draymen bid God speed him well
+And had the tribute of his supple knee,
+With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;'
+As were our England in reversion his,
+And he our subjects' next degree in hope.
+
+GREEN:
+Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts.
+Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland,
+Expedient manage must be made, my liege,
+Ere further leisure yield them further means
+For their advantage and your highness' loss.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+We will ourself in person to this war:
+And, for our coffers, with too great a court
+And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light,
+We are inforced to farm our royal realm;
+The revenue whereof shall furnish us
+For our affairs in hand: if that come short,
+Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
+Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
+They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold
+And send them after to supply our wants;
+For we will make for Ireland presently.
+Bushy, what news?
+
+BUSHY:
+Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,
+Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste
+To entreat your majesty to visit him.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Where lies he?
+
+BUSHY:
+At Ely House.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Now put it, God, in the physician's mind
+To help him to his grave immediately!
+The lining of his coffers shall make coats
+To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.
+Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him:
+Pray God we may make haste, and come too late!
+
+All:
+Amen.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Will the king come, that I may breathe my last
+In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;
+For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+O, but they say the tongues of dying men
+Enforce attention like deep harmony:
+Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,
+For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
+He that no more must say is listen'd more
+Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose;
+More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before:
+The setting sun, and music at the close,
+As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
+Writ in remembrance more than things long past:
+Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
+My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds,
+As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond,
+Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound
+The open ear of youth doth always listen;
+Report of fashions in proud Italy,
+Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
+Limps after in base imitation.
+Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity--
+So it be new, there's no respect how vile--
+That is not quickly buzzed into his ears?
+Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,
+Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
+Direct not him whose way himself will choose:
+'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
+And thus expiring do foretell of him:
+His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
+For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
+Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short;
+He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
+With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder:
+Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
+Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
+This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
+This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
+This other Eden, demi-paradise,
+This fortress built by Nature for herself
+Against infection and the hand of war,
+This happy breed of men, this little world,
+This precious stone set in the silver sea,
+Which serves it in the office of a wall,
+Or as a moat defensive to a house,
+Against the envy of less happier lands,
+This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
+This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
+Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth,
+Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
+For Christian service and true chivalry,
+As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
+Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son,
+This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
+Dear for her reputation through the world,
+Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it,
+Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
+England, bound in with the triumphant sea
+Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
+Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
+With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
+That England, that was wont to conquer others,
+Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
+Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
+How happy then were my ensuing death!
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+The king is come: deal mildly with his youth;
+For young hot colts being raged do rage the more.
+
+QUEEN:
+How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+What comfort, man? how is't with aged Gaunt?
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+O how that name befits my composition!
+Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old:
+Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast;
+And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt?
+For sleeping England long time have I watch'd;
+Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt:
+The pleasure that some fathers feed upon,
+Is my strict fast; I mean, my children's looks;
+And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt:
+Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
+Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Can sick men play so nicely with their names?
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+No, misery makes sport to mock itself:
+Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
+I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Should dying men flatter with those that live?
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+No, no, men living flatter those that die.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Thou, now a-dying, say'st thou flatterest me.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+Now He that made me knows I see thee ill;
+Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.
+Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land
+Wherein thou liest in reputation sick;
+And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
+Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure
+Of those physicians that first wounded thee:
+A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
+Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
+And yet, incaged in so small a verge,
+The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
+O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye
+Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
+From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame,
+Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd,
+Which art possess'd now to depose thyself.
+Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
+It were a shame to let this land by lease;
+But for thy world enjoying but this land,
+Is it not more than shame to shame it so?
+Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
+Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou--
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+A lunatic lean-witted fool,
+Presuming on an ague's privilege,
+Darest with thy frozen admonition
+Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood
+With fury from his native residence.
+Now, by my seat's right royal majesty,
+Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
+This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head
+Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders.
+
+JOHN OF GAUNT:
+O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,
+For that I was his father Edward's son;
+That blood already, like the pelican,
+Hast thou tapp'd out and drunkenly caroused:
+My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul,
+Whom fair befal in heaven 'mongst happy souls!
+May be a precedent and witness good
+That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood:
+Join with the present sickness that I have;
+And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
+To crop at once a too long wither'd flower.
+Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
+These words hereafter thy tormentors be!
+Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
+Love they to live that love and honour have.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+And let them die that age and sullens have;
+For both hast thou, and both become the grave.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+I do beseech your majesty, impute his words
+To wayward sickliness and age in him:
+He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
+As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his;
+As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+What says he?
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Nay, nothing; all is said
+His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
+Words, life and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!
+Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
+His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.
+So much for that. Now for our Irish wars:
+We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns,
+Which live like venom where no venom else
+But only they have privilege to live.
+And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
+Towards our assistance we do seize to us
+The plate, corn, revenues and moveables,
+Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+How long shall I be patient? ah, how long
+Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
+Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment
+Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,
+Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
+About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
+Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
+Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.
+I am the last of noble Edward's sons,
+Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first:
+In war was never lion raged more fierce,
+In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
+Than was that young and princely gentleman.
+His face thou hast, for even so look'd he,
+Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours;
+But when he frown'd, it was against the French
+And not against his friends; his noble hand
+Did will what he did spend and spent not that
+Which his triumphant father's hand had won;
+His hands were guilty of no kindred blood,
+But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
+O Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
+Or else he never would compare between.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Why, uncle, what's the matter?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+O my liege,
+Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleased
+Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
+Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands
+The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?
+Is not Gaunt dead, and doth not Hereford live?
+Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true?
+Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
+Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
+Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time
+His charters and his customary rights;
+Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;
+Be not thyself; for how art thou a king
+But by fair sequence and succession?
+Now, afore God--God forbid I say true!--
+If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
+Call in the letters patent that he hath
+By his attorneys-general to sue
+His livery, and deny his offer'd homage,
+You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
+You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts
+And prick my tender patience, to those thoughts
+Which honour and allegiance cannot think.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Think what you will, we seize into our hands
+His plate, his goods, his money and his lands.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+I'll not be by the while: my liege, farewell:
+What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell;
+But by bad courses may be understood
+That their events can never fall out good.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight:
+Bid him repair to us to Ely House
+To see this business. To-morrow next
+We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow:
+And we create, in absence of ourself,
+Our uncle York lord governor of England;
+For he is just and always loved us well.
+Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part;
+Be merry, for our time of stay is short
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+And living too; for now his son is duke.
+
+LORD WILLOUGHBY:
+Barely in title, not in revenue.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Richly in both, if justice had her right.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+My heart is great; but it must break with silence,
+Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more
+That speaks thy words again to do thee harm!
+
+LORD WILLOUGHBY:
+Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford?
+If it be so, out with it boldly, man;
+Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+No good at all that I can do for him;
+Unless you call it good to pity him,
+Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne
+In him, a royal prince, and many moe
+Of noble blood in this declining land.
+The king is not himself, but basely led
+By flatterers; and what they will inform,
+Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
+That will the king severely prosecute
+'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes,
+And quite lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fined
+For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
+
+LORD WILLOUGHBY:
+And daily new exactions are devised,
+As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what:
+But what, o' God's name, doth become of this?
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not,
+But basely yielded upon compromise
+That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows:
+More hath he spent in peace than they in wars.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.
+
+LORD WILLOUGHBY:
+The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+He hath not money for these Irish wars,
+His burthenous taxations notwithstanding,
+But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+His noble kinsman: most degenerate king!
+But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
+Yet see no shelter to avoid the storm;
+We see the wind sit sore upon our sails,
+And yet we strike not, but securely perish.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+We see the very wreck that we must suffer;
+And unavoided is the danger now,
+For suffering so the causes of our wreck.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death
+I spy life peering; but I dare not say
+How near the tidings of our comfort is.
+
+LORD WILLOUGHBY:
+Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+Be confident to speak, Northumberland:
+We three are but thyself; and, speaking so,
+Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Then thus: I have from Port le Blanc, a bay
+In Brittany, received intelligence
+That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham,
+That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
+His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury,
+Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston,
+Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and Francis Quoint,
+All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne
+With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,
+Are making hither with all due expedience
+And shortly mean to touch our northern shore:
+Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay
+The first departing of the king for Ireland.
+If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
+Imp out our drooping country's broken wing,
+Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown,
+Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt
+And make high majesty look like itself,
+Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh;
+But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
+Stay and be secret, and myself will go.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear.
+
+LORD WILLOUGHBY:
+Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.
+
+BUSHY:
+Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
+You promised, when you parted with the king,
+To lay aside life-harming heaviness
+And entertain a cheerful disposition.
+
+QUEEN:
+To please the king I did; to please myself
+I cannot do it; yet I know no cause
+Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
+Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
+As my sweet Richard: yet again, methinks,
+Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
+Is coming towards me, and my inward soul
+With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves,
+More than with parting from my lord the king.
+
+BUSHY:
+Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
+Which shows like grief itself, but is not so;
+For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,
+Divides one thing entire to many objects;
+Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon
+Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry
+Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty,
+Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
+Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail;
+Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows
+Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
+More than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen;
+Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye,
+Which for things true weeps things imaginary.
+
+QUEEN:
+It may be so; but yet my inward soul
+Persuades me it is otherwise: howe'er it be,
+I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad
+As, though on thinking on no thought I think,
+Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
+
+BUSHY:
+'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady.
+
+QUEEN:
+'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived
+From some forefather grief; mine is not so,
+For nothing had begot my something grief;
+Or something hath the nothing that I grieve:
+'Tis in reversion that I do possess;
+But what it is, that is not yet known; what
+I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.
+
+GREEN:
+God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen:
+I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.
+
+QUEEN:
+Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is;
+For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope:
+Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd?
+
+GREEN:
+That he, our hope, might have retired his power,
+And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
+Who strongly hath set footing in this land:
+The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
+And with uplifted arms is safe arrived
+At Ravenspurgh.
+
+QUEEN:
+Now God in heaven forbid!
+
+GREEN:
+Ah, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,
+The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy,
+The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
+With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
+
+BUSHY:
+Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland
+And all the rest revolted faction traitors?
+
+GREEN:
+We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester
+Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
+And all the household servants fled with him
+To Bolingbroke.
+
+QUEEN:
+So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,
+And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir:
+Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy,
+And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,
+Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.
+
+BUSHY:
+Despair not, madam.
+
+QUEEN:
+Who shall hinder me?
+I will despair, and be at enmity
+With cozening hope: he is a flatterer,
+A parasite, a keeper back of death,
+Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
+Which false hope lingers in extremity.
+
+GREEN:
+Here comes the Duke of York.
+
+QUEEN:
+With signs of war about his aged neck:
+O, full of careful business are his looks!
+Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts:
+Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth,
+Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief.
+Your husband, he is gone to save far off,
+Whilst others come to make him lose at home:
+Here am I left to underprop his land,
+Who, weak with age, cannot support myself:
+Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made;
+Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him.
+
+Servant:
+My lord, your son was gone before I came.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+He was? Why, so! go all which way it will!
+The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold,
+And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.
+Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester;
+Bid her send me presently a thousand pound:
+Hold, take my ring.
+
+Servant:
+My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship,
+To-day, as I came by, I called there;
+But I shall grieve you to report the rest.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+What is't, knave?
+
+Servant:
+An hour before I came, the duchess died.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+God for his mercy! what a tide of woes
+Comes rushing on this woeful land at once!
+I know not what to do: I would to God,
+So my untruth had not provoked him to it,
+The king had cut off my head with my brother's.
+What, are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland?
+How shall we do for money for these wars?
+Come, sister,--cousin, I would say--pray, pardon me.
+Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts
+And bring away the armour that is there.
+Gentlemen, will you go muster men?
+If I know how or which way to order these affairs
+Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
+Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen:
+The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath
+And duty bids defend; the other again
+Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd,
+Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
+Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll
+Dispose of you.
+Gentlemen, go, muster up your men,
+And meet me presently at Berkeley.
+I should to Plashy too;
+But time will not permit: all is uneven,
+And every thing is left at six and seven.
+
+BUSHY:
+The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,
+But none returns. For us to levy power
+Proportionable to the enemy
+Is all unpossible.
+
+GREEN:
+Besides, our nearness to the king in love
+Is near the hate of those love not the king.
+
+BAGOT:
+And that's the wavering commons: for their love
+Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them
+By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.
+
+BUSHY:
+Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.
+
+BAGOT:
+If judgement lie in them, then so do we,
+Because we ever have been near the king.
+
+GREEN:
+Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle:
+The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.
+
+BUSHY:
+Thither will I with you; for little office
+The hateful commons will perform for us,
+Except like curs to tear us all to pieces.
+Will you go along with us?
+
+BAGOT:
+No; I will to Ireland to his majesty.
+Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain,
+We three here art that ne'er shall meet again.
+
+BUSHY:
+That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.
+
+GREEN:
+Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes
+Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry:
+Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.
+Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.
+
+BUSHY:
+Well, we may meet again.
+
+BAGOT:
+I fear me, never.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now?
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Believe me, noble lord,
+I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire:
+These high wild hills and rough uneven ways
+Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome,
+And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
+Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
+But I bethink me what a weary way
+From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found
+In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company,
+Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled
+The tediousness and process of my travel:
+But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have
+The present benefit which I possess;
+And hope to joy is little less in joy
+Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords
+Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done
+By sight of what I have, your noble company.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Of much less value is my company
+Than your good words. But who comes here?
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+It is my son, young Harry Percy,
+Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever.
+Harry, how fares your uncle?
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of you.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Why, is he not with the queen?
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+No, my good Lord; he hath forsook the court,
+Broken his staff of office and dispersed
+The household of the king.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+What was his reason?
+He was not so resolved when last we spake together.
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor.
+But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh,
+To offer service to the Duke of Hereford,
+And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover
+What power the Duke of York had levied there;
+Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy?
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+No, my good lord, for that is not forgot
+Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge,
+I never in my life did look on him.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Then learn to know him now; this is the duke.
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+My gracious lord, I tender you my service,
+Such as it is, being tender, raw and young:
+Which elder days shall ripen and confirm
+To more approved service and desert.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure
+I count myself in nothing else so happy
+As in a soul remembering my good friends;
+And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,
+It shall be still thy true love's recompense:
+My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+How far is it to Berkeley? and what stir
+Keeps good old York there with his men of war?
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,
+Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard;
+And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour;
+None else of name and noble estimate.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby,
+Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues
+A banish'd traitor: all my treasury
+Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd
+Shall be your love and labour's recompense.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.
+
+LORD WILLOUGHBY:
+And far surmounts our labour to attain it.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor;
+Which, till my infant fortune comes to years,
+Stands for my bounty. But who comes here?
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess.
+
+LORD BERKELEY:
+My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+My lord, my answer is--to Lancaster;
+And I am come to seek that name in England;
+And I must find that title in your tongue,
+Before I make reply to aught you say.
+
+LORD BERKELEY:
+Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning
+To raze one title of your honour out:
+To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will,
+From the most gracious regent of this land,
+The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on
+To take advantage of the absent time
+And fright our native peace with self-born arms.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+I shall not need transport my words by you;
+Here comes his grace in person. My noble uncle!
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
+Whose duty is deceiveable and false.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+My gracious uncle--
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Tut, tut!
+Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle:
+I am no traitor's uncle; and that word 'grace.'
+In an ungracious mouth is but profane.
+Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
+Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground?
+But then more 'why?' why have they dared to march
+So many miles upon her peaceful bosom,
+Frighting her pale-faced villages with war
+And ostentation of despised arms?
+Comest thou because the anointed king is hence?
+Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
+And in my loyal bosom lies his power.
+Were I but now the lord of such hot youth
+As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself
+Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,
+From forth the ranks of many thousand French,
+O, then how quickly should this arm of mine.
+Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee
+And minister correction to thy fault!
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+My gracious uncle, let me know my fault:
+On what condition stands it and wherein?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Even in condition of the worst degree,
+In gross rebellion and detested treason:
+Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come
+Before the expiration of thy time,
+In braving arms against thy sovereign.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford;
+But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
+And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace
+Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye:
+You are my father, for methinks in you
+I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father,
+Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
+A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties
+Pluck'd from my arms perforce and given away
+To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?
+If that my cousin king be King of England,
+It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster.
+You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin;
+Had you first died, and he been thus trod down,
+He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
+To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay.
+I am denied to sue my livery here,
+And yet my letters-patents give me leave:
+My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold,
+And these and all are all amiss employ'd.
+What would you have me do? I am a subject,
+And I challenge law: attorneys are denied me;
+And therefore, personally I lay my claim
+To my inheritance of free descent.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+The noble duke hath been too much abused.
+
+LORD ROSS:
+It stands your grace upon to do him right.
+
+LORD WILLOUGHBY:
+Base men by his endowments are made great.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+My lords of England, let me tell you this:
+I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs
+And laboured all I could to do him right;
+But in this kind to come, in braving arms,
+Be his own carver and cut out his way,
+To find out right with wrong, it may not be;
+And you that do abet him in this kind
+Cherish rebellion and are rebels all.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+The noble duke hath sworn his coming is
+But for his own; and for the right of that
+We all have strongly sworn to give him aid;
+And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath!
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Well, well, I see the issue of these arms:
+I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,
+Because my power is weak and all ill left:
+But if I could, by Him that gave me life,
+I would attach you all and make you stoop
+Unto the sovereign mercy of the king;
+But since I cannot, be it known to you
+I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well;
+Unless you please to enter in the castle
+And there repose you for this night.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+An offer, uncle, that we will accept:
+But we must win your grace to go with us
+To Bristol castle, which they say is held
+By Bushy, Bagot and their complices,
+The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
+Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+It may be I will go with you: but yet I'll pause;
+For I am loath to break our country's laws.
+Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are:
+Things past redress are now with me past care.
+
+Captain:
+My lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days,
+And hardly kept our countrymen together,
+And yet we hear no tidings from the king;
+Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell.
+
+EARL OF SALISBURY:
+Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman:
+The king reposeth all his confidence in thee.
+
+Captain:
+'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay.
+The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd
+And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;
+The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth
+And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change;
+Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap,
+The one in fear to lose what they enjoy,
+The other to enjoy by rage and war:
+These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.
+Farewell: our countrymen are gone and fled,
+As well assured Richard their king is dead.
+
+EARL OF SALISBURY:
+Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind
+I see thy glory like a shooting star
+Fall to the base earth from the firmament.
+Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,
+Witnessing storms to come, woe and unrest:
+Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes,
+And crossly to thy good all fortune goes.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Bring forth these men.
+Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls--
+Since presently your souls must part your bodies--
+With too much urging your pernicious lives,
+For 'twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood
+From off my hands, here in the view of men
+I will unfold some causes of your deaths.
+You have misled a prince, a royal king,
+A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
+By you unhappied and disfigured clean:
+You have in manner with your sinful hours
+Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him,
+Broke the possession of a royal bed
+And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
+With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.
+Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth,
+Near to the king in blood, and near in love
+Till you did make him misinterpret me,
+Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries,
+And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
+Eating the bitter bread of banishment;
+Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
+Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods,
+From my own windows torn my household coat,
+Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign,
+Save men's opinions and my living blood,
+To show the world I am a gentleman.
+This and much more, much more than twice all this,
+Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd over
+To execution and the hand of death.
+
+BUSHY:
+More welcome is the stroke of death to me
+Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell.
+
+GREEN:
+My comfort is that heaven will take our souls
+And plague injustice with the pains of hell.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd.
+Uncle, you say the queen is at your house;
+For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated:
+Tell her I send to her my kind commends;
+Take special care my greetings be deliver'd.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd
+With letters of your love to her at large.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Thank, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away.
+To fight with Glendower and his complices:
+Awhile to work, and after holiday.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Barkloughly castle call they this at hand?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air,
+After your late tossing on the breaking seas?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy
+To stand upon my kingdom once again.
+Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
+Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs:
+As a long-parted mother with her child
+Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,
+So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
+And do thee favours with my royal hands.
+Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,
+Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense;
+But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,
+And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way,
+Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet
+Which with usurping steps do trample thee:
+Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies;
+And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
+Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder
+Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
+Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies.
+Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords:
+This earth shall have a feeling and these stones
+Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
+Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms.
+
+BISHOP OF CARLISLE:
+Fear not, my lord: that Power that made you king
+Hath power to keep you king in spite of all.
+The means that heaven yields must be embraced,
+And not neglected; else, if heaven would,
+And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse,
+The proffer'd means of succor and redress.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+He means, my lord, that we are too remiss;
+Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,
+Grows strong and great in substance and in power.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not
+That when the searching eye of heaven is hid,
+Behind the globe, that lights the lower world,
+Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen
+In murders and in outrage, boldly here;
+But when from under this terrestrial ball
+He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines
+And darts his light through every guilty hole,
+Then murders, treasons and detested sins,
+The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs,
+Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
+So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke,
+Who all this while hath revell'd in the night
+Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes,
+Shall see us rising in our throne, the east,
+His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
+Not able to endure the sight of day,
+But self-affrighted tremble at his sin.
+Not all the water in the rough rude sea
+Can wash the balm off from an anointed king;
+The breath of worldly men cannot depose
+The deputy elected by the Lord:
+For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd
+To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,
+God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay
+A glorious angel: then, if angels fight,
+Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right.
+Welcome, my lord how far off lies your power?
+
+EARL OF SALISBURY:
+Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord,
+Than this weak arm: discomfort guides my tongue
+And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
+One day too late, I fear me, noble lord,
+Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth:
+O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
+And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men!
+To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late,
+O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune and thy state:
+For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead.
+Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Comfort, my liege; why looks your grace so pale?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+But now the blood of twenty thousand men
+Did triumph in my face, and they are fled;
+And, till so much blood thither come again,
+Have I not reason to look pale and dead?
+All souls that will be safe fly from my side,
+For time hath set a blot upon my pride.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Comfort, my liege; remember who you are.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+I had forgot myself; am I not king?
+Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest.
+Is not the king's name twenty thousand names?
+Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes
+At thy great glory. Look not to the ground,
+Ye favourites of a king: are we not high?
+High be our thoughts: I know my uncle York
+Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here?
+
+SIR STEPHEN SCROOP:
+More health and happiness betide my liege
+Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Mine ear is open and my heart prepared;
+The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.
+Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care
+And what loss is it to be rid of care?
+Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?
+Greater he shall not be; if he serve God,
+We'll serve Him too and be his fellow so:
+Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend;
+They break their faith to God as well as us:
+Cry woe, destruction, ruin and decay:
+The worst is death, and death will have his day.
+
+SIR STEPHEN SCROOP:
+Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd
+To bear the tidings of calamity.
+Like an unseasonable stormy day,
+Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,
+As if the world were all dissolved to tears,
+So high above his limits swells the rage
+Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
+With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel.
+White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps
+Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices,
+Strive to speak big and clap their female joints
+In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown:
+The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows
+Of double-fatal yew against thy state;
+Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills
+Against thy seat: both young and old rebel,
+And all goes worse than I have power to tell.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill.
+Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot?
+What is become of Bushy? where is Green?
+That they have let the dangerous enemy
+Measure our confines with such peaceful steps?
+If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it:
+I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke.
+
+SIR STEPHEN SCROOP:
+Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption!
+Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
+Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart!
+Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas!
+Would they make peace? terrible hell make war
+Upon their spotted souls for this offence!
+
+SIR STEPHEN SCROOP:
+Sweet love, I see, changing his property,
+Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate:
+Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made
+With heads, and not with hands; those whom you curse
+Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound
+And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead?
+
+SIR STEPHEN SCROOP:
+Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Where is the duke my father with his power?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
+Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
+Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
+Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth,
+Let's choose executors and talk of wills:
+And yet not so, for what can we bequeath
+Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
+Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke's,
+And nothing can we call our own but death
+And that small model of the barren earth
+Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
+For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
+And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
+How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
+Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
+Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd;
+All murder'd: for within the hollow crown
+That rounds the mortal temples of a king
+Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
+Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
+Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
+To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks,
+Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
+As if this flesh which walls about our life,
+Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus
+Comes at the last and with a little pin
+Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
+Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood
+With solemn reverence: throw away respect,
+Tradition, form and ceremonious duty,
+For you have but mistook me all this while:
+I live with bread like you, feel want,
+Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
+How can you say to me, I am a king?
+
+BISHOP OF CARLISLE:
+My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes,
+But presently prevent the ways to wail.
+To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
+Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe,
+And so your follies fight against yourself.
+Fear and be slain; no worse can come to fight:
+And fight and die is death destroying death;
+Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+My father hath a power; inquire of him
+And learn to make a body of a limb.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Thou chidest me well: proud Bolingbroke, I come
+To change blows with thee for our day of doom.
+This ague fit of fear is over-blown;
+An easy task it is to win our own.
+Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power?
+Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.
+
+SIR STEPHEN SCROOP:
+Men judge by the complexion of the sky
+The state and inclination of the day:
+So may you by my dull and heavy eye,
+My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
+I play the torturer, by small and small
+To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken:
+Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke,
+And all your northern castles yielded up,
+And all your southern gentlemen in arms
+Upon his party.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Thou hast said enough.
+Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth
+Of that sweet way I was in to despair!
+What say you now? what comfort have we now?
+By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly
+That bids me be of comfort any more.
+Go to Flint castle: there I'll pine away;
+A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.
+That power I have, discharge; and let them go
+To ear the land that hath some hope to grow,
+For I have none: let no man speak again
+To alter this, for counsel is but vain.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+My liege, one word.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+He does me double wrong
+That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
+Discharge my followers: let them hence away,
+From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+So that by this intelligence we learn
+The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury
+Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed
+With some few private friends upon this coast.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+The news is very fair and good, my lord:
+Richard not far from hence hath hid his head.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+It would beseem the Lord Northumberland
+To say 'King Richard:' alack the heavy day
+When such a sacred king should hide his head.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Your grace mistakes; only to be brief
+Left I his title out.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+The time hath been,
+Would you have been so brief with him, he would
+Have been so brief with you, to shorten you,
+For taking so the head, your whole head's length.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Mistake not, uncle, further than you should.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Take not, good cousin, further than you should.
+Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself
+Against their will. But who comes here?
+Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield?
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+The castle royally is mann'd, my lord,
+Against thy entrance.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Royally!
+Why, it contains no king?
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+Yes, my good lord,
+It doth contain a king; King Richard lies
+Within the limits of yon lime and stone:
+And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury,
+Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman
+Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Noble lords,
+Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;
+Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley
+Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver:
+Henry Bolingbroke
+On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand
+And sends allegiance and true faith of heart
+To his most royal person, hither come
+Even at his feet to lay my arms and power,
+Provided that my banishment repeal'd
+And lands restored again be freely granted:
+If not, I'll use the advantage of my power
+And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood
+Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen:
+The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke
+It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench
+The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land,
+My stooping duty tenderly shall show.
+Go, signify as much, while here we march
+Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.
+Let's march without the noise of threatening drum,
+That from this castle's tatter'd battlements
+Our fair appointments may be well perused.
+Methinks King Richard and myself should meet
+With no less terror than the elements
+Of fire and water, when their thundering shock
+At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.
+Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water:
+The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain
+My waters; on the earth, and not on him.
+March on, and mark King Richard how he looks.
+See, see, King Richard doth himself appear,
+As doth the blushing discontented sun
+From out the fiery portal of the east,
+When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
+To dim his glory and to stain the track
+Of his bright passage to the occident.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Yet looks he like a king: behold, his eye,
+As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth
+Controlling majesty: alack, alack, for woe,
+That any harm should stain so fair a show!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+We are amazed; and thus long have we stood
+To watch the fearful bending of thy knee,
+Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:
+And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
+To pay their awful duty to our presence?
+If we be not, show us the hand of God
+That hath dismissed us from our stewardship;
+For well we know, no hand of blood and bone
+Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre,
+Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp.
+And though you think that all, as you have done,
+Have torn their souls by turning them from us,
+And we are barren and bereft of friends;
+Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,
+Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf
+Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
+Your children yet unborn and unbegot,
+That lift your vassal hands against my head
+And threat the glory of my precious crown.
+Tell Bolingbroke--for yond methinks he stands--
+That every stride he makes upon my land
+Is dangerous treason: he is come to open
+The purple testament of bleeding war;
+But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
+Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons
+Shall ill become the flower of England's face,
+Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
+To scarlet indignation and bedew
+Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+The king of heaven forbid our lord the king
+Should so with civil and uncivil arms
+Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice noble cousin
+Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand;
+And by the honourable tomb he swears,
+That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones,
+And by the royalties of both your bloods,
+Currents that spring from one most gracious head,
+And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt,
+And by the worth and honour of himself,
+Comprising all that may be sworn or said,
+His coming hither hath no further scope
+Than for his lineal royalties and to beg
+Enfranchisement immediate on his knees:
+Which on thy royal party granted once,
+His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
+His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart
+To faithful service of your majesty.
+This swears he, as he is a prince, is just;
+And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Northumberland, say thus the king returns:
+His noble cousin is right welcome hither;
+And all the number of his fair demands
+Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction:
+With all the gracious utterance thou hast
+Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends.
+We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not,
+To look so poorly and to speak so fair?
+Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
+Defiance to the traitor, and so die?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words
+Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine,
+That laid the sentence of dread banishment
+On yon proud man, should take it off again
+With words of sooth! O that I were as great
+As is my grief, or lesser than my name!
+Or that I could forget what I have been,
+Or not remember what I must be now!
+Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat,
+Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+What must the king do now? must he submit?
+The king shall do it: must he be deposed?
+The king shall be contented: must he lose
+The name of king? o' God's name, let it go:
+I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,
+My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,
+My gay apparel for an almsman's gown,
+My figured goblets for a dish of wood,
+My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff,
+My subjects for a pair of carved saints
+And my large kingdom for a little grave,
+A little little grave, an obscure grave;
+Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,
+Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet
+May hourly trample on their sovereign's head;
+For on my heart they tread now whilst I live;
+And buried once, why not upon my head?
+Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin!
+We'll make foul weather with despised tears;
+Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn,
+And make a dearth in this revolting land.
+Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,
+And make some pretty match with shedding tears?
+As thus, to drop them still upon one place,
+Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
+Within the earth; and, therein laid,--there lies
+Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes.
+Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see
+I talk but idly, and you laugh at me.
+Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland,
+What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty
+Give Richard leave to live till Richard die?
+You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+My lord, in the base court he doth attend
+To speak with you; may it please you to come down.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Down, down I come; like glistering Phaethon,
+Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
+In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base,
+To come at traitors' calls and do them grace.
+In the base court? Come down? Down, court!
+down, king!
+For night-owls shriek where mounting larks
+should sing.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+What says his majesty?
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Sorrow and grief of heart
+Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man
+Yet he is come.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Stand all apart,
+And show fair duty to his majesty.
+My gracious lord,--
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee
+To make the base earth proud with kissing it:
+Me rather had my heart might feel your love
+Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy.
+Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know,
+Thus high at least, although your knee be low.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,
+As my true service shall deserve your love.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Well you deserve: they well deserve to have,
+That know the strong'st and surest way to get.
+Uncle, give me your hands: nay, dry your eyes;
+Tears show their love, but want their remedies.
+Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
+Though you are old enough to be my heir.
+What you will have, I'll give, and willing too;
+For do we must what force will have us do.
+Set on towards London, cousin, is it so?
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Yea, my good lord.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Then I must not say no.
+
+QUEEN:
+What sport shall we devise here in this garden,
+To drive away the heavy thought of care?
+
+Lady:
+Madam, we'll play at bowls.
+
+QUEEN:
+'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs,
+And that my fortune rubs against the bias.
+
+Lady:
+Madam, we'll dance.
+
+QUEEN:
+My legs can keep no measure in delight,
+When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief:
+Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport.
+
+Lady:
+Madam, we'll tell tales.
+
+QUEEN:
+Of sorrow or of joy?
+
+Lady:
+Of either, madam.
+
+QUEEN:
+Of neither, girl:
+For of joy, being altogether wanting,
+It doth remember me the more of sorrow;
+Or if of grief, being altogether had,
+It adds more sorrow to my want of joy:
+For what I have I need not to repeat;
+And what I want it boots not to complain.
+
+Lady:
+Madam, I'll sing.
+
+QUEEN:
+'Tis well that thou hast cause
+But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep.
+
+Lady:
+I could weep, madam, would it do you good.
+
+QUEEN:
+And I could sing, would weeping do me good,
+And never borrow any tear of thee.
+But stay, here come the gardeners:
+Let's step into the shadow of these trees.
+My wretchedness unto a row of pins,
+They'll talk of state; for every one doth so
+Against a change; woe is forerun with woe.
+
+Gardener:
+Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks,
+Which, like unruly children, make their sire
+Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight:
+Give some supportance to the bending twigs.
+Go thou, and like an executioner,
+Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays,
+That look too lofty in our commonwealth:
+All must be even in our government.
+You thus employ'd, I will go root away
+The noisome weeds, which without profit suck
+The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.
+
+Servant:
+Why should we in the compass of a pale
+Keep law and form and due proportion,
+Showing, as in a model, our firm estate,
+When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
+Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up,
+Her fruit-trees all upturned, her hedges ruin'd,
+Her knots disorder'd and her wholesome herbs
+Swarming with caterpillars?
+
+Gardener:
+Hold thy peace:
+He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring
+Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf:
+The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter,
+That seem'd in eating him to hold him up,
+Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke,
+I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.
+
+Servant:
+What, are they dead?
+
+Gardener:
+They are; and Bolingbroke
+Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it
+That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land
+As we this garden! We at time of year
+Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees,
+Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood,
+With too much riches it confound itself:
+Had he done so to great and growing men,
+They might have lived to bear and he to taste
+Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches
+We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:
+Had he done so, himself had borne the crown,
+Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.
+
+Servant:
+What, think you then the king shall be deposed?
+
+Gardener:
+Depress'd he is already, and deposed
+'Tis doubt he will be: letters came last night
+To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's,
+That tell black tidings.
+
+QUEEN:
+O, I am press'd to death through want of speaking!
+Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden,
+How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?
+What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee
+To make a second fall of cursed man?
+Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed?
+Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth,
+Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how,
+Camest thou by this ill tidings? speak, thou wretch.
+
+Gardener:
+Pardon me, madam: little joy have I
+To breathe this news; yet what I say is true.
+King Richard, he is in the mighty hold
+Of Bolingbroke: their fortunes both are weigh'd:
+In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,
+And some few vanities that make him light;
+But in the balance of great Bolingbroke,
+Besides himself, are all the English peers,
+And with that odds he weighs King Richard down.
+Post you to London, and you will find it so;
+I speak no more than every one doth know.
+
+QUEEN:
+Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,
+Doth not thy embassage belong to me,
+And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st
+To serve me last, that I may longest keep
+Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go,
+To meet at London London's king in woe.
+What, was I born to this, that my sad look
+Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke?
+Gardener, for telling me these news of woe,
+Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.
+
+GARDENER:
+Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse,
+I would my skill were subject to thy curse.
+Here did she fall a tear; here in this place
+I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace:
+Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen,
+In the remembrance of a weeping queen.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Call forth Bagot.
+Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind;
+What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death,
+Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd
+The bloody office of his timeless end.
+
+BAGOT:
+Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.
+
+BAGOT:
+My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue
+Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd.
+In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted,
+I heard you say, 'Is not my arm of length,
+That reacheth from the restful English court
+As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?'
+Amongst much other talk, that very time,
+I heard you say that you had rather refuse
+The offer of an hundred thousand crowns
+Than Bolingbroke's return to England;
+Adding withal how blest this land would be
+In this your cousin's death.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Princes and noble lords,
+What answer shall I make to this base man?
+Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
+On equal terms to give him chastisement?
+Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd
+With the attainder of his slanderous lips.
+There is my gage, the manual seal of death,
+That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest,
+And will maintain what thou hast said is false
+In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
+To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Excepting one, I would he were the best
+In all this presence that hath moved me so.
+
+LORD FITZWATER:
+If that thy valour stand on sympathy,
+There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine:
+By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st,
+I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakest it
+That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death.
+If thou deny'st it twenty times, thou liest;
+And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,
+Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Thou darest not, coward, live to see that day.
+
+LORD FITZWATER:
+Now by my soul, I would it were this hour.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this.
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true
+In this appeal as thou art all unjust;
+And that thou art so, there I throw my gage,
+To prove it on thee to the extremest point
+Of mortal breathing: seize it, if thou darest.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+An if I do not, may my hands rot off
+And never brandish more revengeful steel
+Over the glittering helmet of my foe!
+
+Lord:
+I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle;
+And spur thee on with full as many lies
+As may be holloa'd in thy treacherous ear
+From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn;
+Engage it to the trial, if thou darest.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw at all:
+I have a thousand spirits in one breast,
+To answer twenty thousand such as you.
+
+DUKE OF SURREY:
+My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
+The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
+
+LORD FITZWATER:
+'Tis very true: you were in presence then;
+And you can witness with me this is true.
+
+DUKE OF SURREY:
+As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.
+
+LORD FITZWATER:
+Surrey, thou liest.
+
+DUKE OF SURREY:
+Dishonourable boy!
+That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword,
+That it shall render vengeance and revenge
+Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie
+In earth as quiet as thy father's skull:
+In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn;
+Engage it to the trial, if thou darest.
+
+LORD FITZWATER:
+How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!
+If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
+I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
+And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies,
+And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith,
+To tie thee to my strong correction.
+As I intend to thrive in this new world,
+Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal:
+Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say
+That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men
+To execute the noble duke at Calais.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Some honest Christian trust me with a gage
+That Norfolk lies: here do I throw down this,
+If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+These differences shall all rest under gage
+Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be,
+And, though mine enemy, restored again
+To all his lands and signories: when he's return'd,
+Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.
+
+BISHOP OF CARLISLE:
+That honourable day shall ne'er be seen.
+Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
+For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field,
+Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross
+Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens:
+And toil'd with works of war, retired himself
+To Italy; and there at Venice gave
+His body to that pleasant country's earth,
+And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,
+Under whose colours he had fought so long.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead?
+
+BISHOP OF CARLISLE:
+As surely as I live, my lord.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom
+Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants,
+Your differences shall all rest under gage
+Till we assign you to your days of trial.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
+From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing soul
+Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields
+To the possession of thy royal hand:
+Ascend his throne, descending now from him;
+And long live Henry, fourth of that name!
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.
+
+BISHOP OF CARLISLE:
+Marry. God forbid!
+Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
+Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
+Would God that any in this noble presence
+Were enough noble to be upright judge
+Of noble Richard! then true noblesse would
+Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
+What subject can give sentence on his king?
+And who sits here that is not Richard's subject?
+Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear,
+Although apparent guilt be seen in them;
+And shall the figure of God's majesty,
+His captain, steward, deputy-elect,
+Anointed, crowned, planted many years,
+Be judged by subject and inferior breath,
+And he himself not present? O, forfend it, God,
+That in a Christian climate souls refined
+Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
+I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
+Stirr'd up by God, thus boldly for his king:
+My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
+Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king:
+And if you crown him, let me prophesy:
+The blood of English shall manure the ground,
+And future ages groan for this foul act;
+Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
+And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars
+Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound;
+Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny
+Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
+The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls.
+O, if you raise this house against this house,
+It will the woefullest division prove
+That ever fell upon this cursed earth.
+Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so,
+Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe!
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains,
+Of capital treason we arrest you here.
+My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge
+To keep him safely till his day of trial.
+May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
+He may surrender; so we shall proceed
+Without suspicion.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+I will be his conduct.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Lords, you that here are under our arrest,
+Procure your sureties for your days of answer.
+Little are we beholding to your love,
+And little look'd for at your helping hands.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Alack, why am I sent for to a king,
+Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
+Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd
+To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbs:
+Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me
+To this submission. Yet I well remember
+The favours of these men: were they not mine?
+Did they not sometime cry, 'all hail!' to me?
+So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve,
+Found truth in all but one: I, in twelve thousand, none.
+God save the king! Will no man say amen?
+Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen.
+God save the king! although I be not he;
+And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me.
+To do what service am I sent for hither?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+To do that office of thine own good will
+Which tired majesty did make thee offer,
+The resignation of thy state and crown
+To Henry Bolingbroke.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown;
+Here cousin:
+On this side my hand, and on that side yours.
+Now is this golden crown like a deep well
+That owes two buckets, filling one another,
+The emptier ever dancing in the air,
+The other down, unseen and full of water:
+That bucket down and full of tears am I,
+Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+I thought you had been willing to resign.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine:
+You may my glories and my state depose,
+But not my griefs; still am I king of those.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Part of your cares you give me with your crown.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down.
+My care is loss of care, by old care done;
+Your care is gain of care, by new care won:
+The cares I give I have, though given away;
+They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Are you contented to resign the crown?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be;
+Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.
+Now mark me, how I will undo myself;
+I give this heavy weight from off my head
+And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,
+The pride of kingly sway from out my heart;
+With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
+With mine own hands I give away my crown,
+With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
+With mine own breath release all duty's rites:
+All pomp and majesty I do forswear;
+My manors, rents, revenues I forego;
+My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny:
+God pardon all oaths that are broke to me!
+God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee!
+Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved,
+And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved!
+Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
+And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit!
+God save King Harry, unking'd Richard says,
+And send him many years of sunshine days!
+What more remains?
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+No more, but that you read
+These accusations and these grievous crimes
+Committed by your person and your followers
+Against the state and profit of this land;
+That, by confessing them, the souls of men
+May deem that you are worthily deposed.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Must I do so? and must I ravel out
+My weaved-up folly? Gentle Northumberland,
+If thy offences were upon record,
+Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop
+To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst,
+There shouldst thou find one heinous article,
+Containing the deposing of a king
+And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,
+Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven:
+Nay, all of you that stand and look upon,
+Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,
+Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands
+Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates
+Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
+And water cannot wash away your sin.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+My lord, dispatch; read o'er these articles.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see:
+And yet salt water blinds them not so much
+But they can see a sort of traitors here.
+Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
+I find myself a traitor with the rest;
+For I have given here my soul's consent
+To undeck the pompous body of a king;
+Made glory base and sovereignty a slave,
+Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+My lord,--
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,
+Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,
+No, not that name was given me at the font,
+But 'tis usurp'd: alack the heavy day,
+That I have worn so many winters out,
+And know not now what name to call myself!
+O that I were a mockery king of snow,
+Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
+To melt myself away in water-drops!
+Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good,
+An if my word be sterling yet in England,
+Let it command a mirror hither straight,
+That it may show me what a face I have,
+Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell!
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+The commons will not then be satisfied.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough,
+When I do see the very book indeed
+Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.
+Give me the glass, and therein will I read.
+No deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck
+So many blows upon this face of mine,
+And made no deeper wounds? O flattering glass,
+Like to my followers in prosperity,
+Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face
+That every day under his household roof
+Did keep ten thousand men? was this the face
+That, like the sun, did make beholders wink?
+Was this the face that faced so many follies,
+And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke?
+A brittle glory shineth in this face:
+As brittle as the glory is the face;
+For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers.
+Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,
+How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd
+The shadow or your face.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Say that again.
+The shadow of my sorrow! ha! let's see:
+'Tis very true, my grief lies all within;
+And these external manners of laments
+Are merely shadows to the unseen grief
+That swells with silence in the tortured soul;
+There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king,
+For thy great bounty, that not only givest
+Me cause to wail but teachest me the way
+How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,
+And then be gone and trouble you no more.
+Shall I obtain it?
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Name it, fair cousin.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+'Fair cousin'? I am greater than a king:
+For when I was a king, my flatterers
+Were then but subjects; being now a subject,
+I have a king here to my flatterer.
+Being so great, I have no need to beg.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Yet ask.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+And shall I have?
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+You shall.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Then give me leave to go.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Whither?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Whither you will, so I were from your sights.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Go, some of you convey him to the Tower.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+O, good! convey? conveyers are you all,
+That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+On Wednesday next we solemnly set down
+Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves.
+
+Abbot:
+A woeful pageant have we here beheld.
+
+BISHOP OF CARLISLE:
+The woe's to come; the children yet unborn.
+Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+You holy clergymen, is there no plot
+To rid the realm of this pernicious blot?
+
+Abbot:
+My lord,
+Before I freely speak my mind herein,
+You shall not only take the sacrament
+To bury mine intents, but also to effect
+Whatever I shall happen to devise.
+I see your brows are full of discontent,
+Your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears:
+Come home with me to supper; and I'll lay
+A plot shall show us all a merry day.
+
+QUEEN:
+This way the king will come; this is the way
+To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower,
+To whose flint bosom my condemned lord
+Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke:
+Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
+Have any resting for her true king's queen.
+But soft, but see, or rather do not see,
+My fair rose wither: yet look up, behold,
+That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
+And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.
+Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand,
+Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb,
+And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn,
+Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodged in thee,
+When triumph is become an alehouse guest?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
+To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul,
+To think our former state a happy dream;
+From which awaked, the truth of what we are
+Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
+To grim Necessity, and he and I
+Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France
+And cloister thee in some religious house:
+Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,
+Which our profane hours here have stricken down.
+
+QUEEN:
+What, is my Richard both in shape and mind
+Transform'd and weaken'd? hath Bolingbroke deposed
+Thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart?
+The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw,
+And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
+To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,
+Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod,
+And fawn on rage with base humility,
+Which art a lion and a king of beasts?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts,
+I had been still a happy king of men.
+Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France:
+Think I am dead and that even here thou takest,
+As from my death-bed, thy last living leave.
+In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire
+With good old folks and let them tell thee tales
+Of woeful ages long ago betid;
+And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs,
+Tell thou the lamentable tale of me
+And send the hearers weeping to their beds:
+For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
+The heavy accent of thy moving tongue
+And in compassion weep the fire out;
+And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
+For the deposing of a rightful king.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed:
+You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.
+And, madam, there is order ta'en for you;
+With all swift speed you must away to France.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal
+The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,
+The time shall not be many hours of age
+More than it is ere foul sin gathering head
+Shalt break into corruption: thou shalt think,
+Though he divide the realm and give thee half,
+It is too little, helping him to all;
+And he shall think that thou, which know'st the way
+To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,
+Being ne'er so little urged, another way
+To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.
+The love of wicked men converts to fear;
+That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both
+To worthy danger and deserved death.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
+Take leave and part; for you must part forthwith.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate
+A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me,
+And then betwixt me and my married wife.
+Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me;
+And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made.
+Part us, Northumberland; I toward the north,
+Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime;
+My wife to France: from whence, set forth in pomp,
+She came adorned hither like sweet May,
+Sent back like Hallowmas or short'st of day.
+
+QUEEN:
+And must we be divided? must we part?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.
+
+QUEEN:
+Banish us both and send the king with me.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+That were some love but little policy.
+
+QUEEN:
+Then whither he goes, thither let me go.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+So two, together weeping, make one woe.
+Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here;
+Better far off than near, be ne'er the near.
+Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans.
+
+QUEEN:
+So longest way shall have the longest moans.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short,
+And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
+Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
+Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief;
+One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part;
+Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart.
+
+QUEEN:
+Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part
+To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.
+So, now I have mine own again, be gone,
+That I might strive to kill it with a groan.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+We make woe wanton with this fond delay:
+Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+My lord, you told me you would tell the rest,
+When weeping made you break the story off,
+of our two cousins coming into London.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Where did I leave?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+At that sad stop, my lord,
+Where rude misgovern'd hands from windows' tops
+Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke,
+Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed
+Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,
+With slow but stately pace kept on his course,
+Whilst all tongues cried 'God save thee,
+Bolingbroke!'
+You would have thought the very windows spake,
+So many greedy looks of young and old
+Through casements darted their desiring eyes
+Upon his visage, and that all the walls
+With painted imagery had said at once
+'Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!'
+Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning,
+Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck,
+Bespake them thus: 'I thank you, countrymen:'
+And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
+After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
+Are idly bent on him that enters next,
+Thinking his prattle to be tedious;
+Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
+Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save him!'
+No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
+But dust was thrown upon his sacred head:
+Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,
+His face still combating with tears and smiles,
+The badges of his grief and patience,
+That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
+The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted
+And barbarism itself have pitied him.
+But heaven hath a hand in these events,
+To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
+To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now,
+Whose state and honour I for aye allow.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Here comes my son Aumerle.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Aumerle that was;
+But that is lost for being Richard's friend,
+And, madam, you must call him Rutland now:
+I am in parliament pledge for his truth
+And lasting fealty to the new-made king.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Welcome, my son: who are the violets now
+That strew the green lap of the new come spring?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not:
+God knows I had as lief be none as one.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,
+Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime.
+What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+For aught I know, my lord, they do.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+You will be there, I know.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+If God prevent not, I purpose so.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom?
+Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+My lord, 'tis nothing.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+No matter, then, who see it;
+I will be satisfied; let me see the writing.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+I do beseech your grace to pardon me:
+It is a matter of small consequence,
+Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see.
+I fear, I fear,--
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+What should you fear?
+'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into
+For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Bound to himself! what doth he with a bond
+That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool.
+Boy, let me see the writing.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say.
+Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave!
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+What is the matter, my lord?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Ho! who is within there?
+Saddle my horse.
+God for his mercy, what treachery is here!
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Why, what is it, my lord?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse.
+Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth,
+I will appeach the villain.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+What is the matter?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Peace, foolish woman.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Good mother, be content; it is no more
+Than my poor life must answer.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Thy life answer!
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Bring me my boots: I will unto the king.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed.
+Hence, villain! never more come in my sight.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Give me my boots, I say.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Why, York, what wilt thou do?
+Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own?
+Have we more sons? or are we like to have?
+Is not my teeming date drunk up with time?
+And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
+And rob me of a happy mother's name?
+Is he not like thee? is he not thine own?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Thou fond mad woman,
+Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy?
+A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
+And interchangeably set down their hands,
+To kill the king at Oxford.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+He shall be none;
+We'll keep him here: then what is that to him?
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son,
+I would appeach him.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Hadst thou groan'd for him
+As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful.
+But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect
+That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
+And that he is a bastard, not thy son:
+Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind:
+He is as like thee as a man may be,
+Not like to me, or any of my kin,
+And yet I love him.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Make way, unruly woman!
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+After, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse;
+Spur post, and get before him to the king,
+And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
+I'll not be long behind; though I be old,
+I doubt not but to ride as fast as York:
+And never will I rise up from the ground
+Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone!
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son?
+'Tis full three months since I did see him last;
+If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
+I would to God, my lords, he might be found:
+Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
+For there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
+With unrestrained loose companions,
+Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
+And beat our watch, and rob our passengers;
+Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy,
+Takes on the point of honour to support
+So dissolute a crew.
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+My lord, some two days since I saw the prince,
+And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+And what said the gallant?
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+His answer was, he would unto the stews,
+And from the common'st creature pluck a glove,
+And wear it as a favour; and with that
+He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+As dissolute as desperate; yet through both
+I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years
+May happily bring forth. But who comes here?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Where is the king?
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+What means our cousin, that he stares and looks
+So wildly?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+God save your grace! I do beseech your majesty,
+To have some conference with your grace alone.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone.
+What is the matter with our cousin now?
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+For ever may my knees grow to the earth,
+My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth
+Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Intended or committed was this fault?
+If on the first, how heinous e'er it be,
+To win thy after-love I pardon thee.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Then give me leave that I may turn the key,
+That no man enter till my tale be done.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Have thy desire.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Villain, I'll make thee safe.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+What is the matter, uncle? speak;
+Recover breath; tell us how near is danger,
+That we may arm us to encounter it.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
+The treason that my haste forbids me show.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd:
+I do repent me; read not my name there
+My heart is not confederate with my hand.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down.
+I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king;
+Fear, and not love, begets his penitence:
+Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
+A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+O heinous, strong and bold conspiracy!
+O loyal father of a treacherous son!
+Thou sheer, immaculate and silver fountain,
+From when this stream through muddy passages
+Hath held his current and defiled himself!
+Thy overflow of good converts to bad,
+And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
+This deadly blot in thy digressing son.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd;
+And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,
+As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold.
+Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
+Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies:
+Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath,
+The traitor lives, the true man's put to death.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+A woman, and thy aunt, great king; 'tis I.
+Speak with me, pity me, open the door.
+A beggar begs that never begg'd before.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Our scene is alter'd from a serious thing,
+And now changed to 'The Beggar and the King.'
+My dangerous cousin, let your mother in:
+I know she is come to pray for your foul sin.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
+More sins for this forgiveness prosper may.
+This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rest sound;
+This let alone will all the rest confound.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+O king, believe not this hard-hearted man!
+Love loving not itself none other can.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here?
+Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear?
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Rise up, good aunt.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Not yet, I thee beseech:
+For ever will I walk upon my knees,
+And never see day that the happy sees,
+Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy,
+By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
+
+DUKE OF AUMERLE:
+Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Against them both my true joints bended be.
+Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace!
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face;
+His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest;
+His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast:
+He prays but faintly and would be denied;
+We pray with heart and soul and all beside:
+His weary joints would gladly rise, I know;
+Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow:
+His prayers are full of false hypocrisy;
+Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.
+Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have
+That mercy which true prayer ought to have.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Good aunt, stand up.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Nay, do not say, 'stand up;'
+Say, 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.'
+And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
+'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech.
+I never long'd to hear a word till now;
+Say 'pardon,' king; let pity teach thee how:
+The word is short, but not so short as sweet;
+No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet.
+
+DUKE OF YORK:
+Speak it in French, king; say, 'pardonne moi.'
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy?
+Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
+That set'st the word itself against the word!
+Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land;
+The chopping French we do not understand.
+Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there;
+Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear;
+That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
+Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Good aunt, stand up.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+I do not sue to stand;
+Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+O happy vantage of a kneeling knee!
+Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again;
+Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain,
+But makes one pardon strong.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+With all my heart
+I pardon him.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+A god on earth thou art.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+But for our trusty brother-in-law and the abbot,
+With all the rest of that consorted crew,
+Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels.
+Good uncle, help to order several powers
+To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are:
+They shall not live within this world, I swear,
+But I will have them, if I once know where.
+Uncle, farewell: and, cousin too, adieu:
+Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true.
+
+DUCHESS OF YORK:
+Come, my old son: I pray God make thee new.
+
+EXTON:
+Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake,
+'Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?'
+Was it not so?
+
+Servant:
+These were his very words.
+
+EXTON:
+'Have I no friend?' quoth he: he spake it twice,
+And urged it twice together, did he not?
+
+Servant:
+He did.
+
+EXTON:
+And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me,
+And who should say, 'I would thou wert the man'
+That would divorce this terror from my heart;'
+Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go:
+I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+I have been studying how I may compare
+This prison where I live unto the world:
+And for because the world is populous
+And here is not a creature but myself,
+I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.
+My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,
+My soul the father; and these two beget
+A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
+And these same thoughts people this little world,
+In humours like the people of this world,
+For no thought is contented. The better sort,
+As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd
+With scruples and do set the word itself
+Against the word:
+As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again,
+'It is as hard to come as for a camel
+To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.'
+Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
+Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails
+May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
+Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls,
+And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
+Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
+That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
+Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars
+Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,
+That many have and others must sit there;
+And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
+Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
+Of such as have before endured the like.
+Thus play I in one person many people,
+And none contented: sometimes am I king;
+Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,
+And so I am: then crushing penury
+Persuades me I was better when a king;
+Then am I king'd again: and by and by
+Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
+And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be,
+Nor I nor any man that but man is
+With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
+With being nothing. Music do I hear?
+Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,
+When time is broke and no proportion kept!
+So is it in the music of men's lives.
+And here have I the daintiness of ear
+To cheque time broke in a disorder'd string;
+But for the concord of my state and time
+Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
+I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
+For now hath time made me his numbering clock:
+My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar
+Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,
+Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,
+Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
+Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is
+Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,
+Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans
+Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time
+Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
+While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.
+This music mads me; let it sound no more;
+For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
+In me it seems it will make wise men mad.
+Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
+For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
+Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.
+
+Groom:
+Hail, royal prince!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Thanks, noble peer;
+The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
+What art thou? and how comest thou hither,
+Where no man never comes but that sad dog
+That brings me food to make misfortune live?
+
+Groom:
+I was a poor groom of thy stable, king,
+When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York,
+With much ado at length have gotten leave
+To look upon my sometimes royal master's face.
+O, how it yearn'd my heart when I beheld
+In London streets, that coronation-day,
+When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary,
+That horse that thou so often hast bestrid,
+That horse that I so carefully have dress'd!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend,
+How went he under him?
+
+Groom:
+So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back!
+That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;
+This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
+Would he not stumble? would he not fall down,
+Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck
+Of that proud man that did usurp his back?
+Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,
+Since thou, created to be awed by man,
+Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;
+And yet I bear a burthen like an ass,
+Spurr'd, gall'd and tired by jouncing Bolingbroke.
+
+Keeper:
+Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.
+
+Groom:
+What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say.
+
+Keeper:
+My lord, will't please you to fall to?
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.
+
+Keeper:
+My lord, I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, who
+lately came from the king, commands the contrary.
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee!
+Patience is stale, and I am weary of it.
+
+Keeper:
+Help, help, help!
+
+KING RICHARD II:
+How now! what means death in this rude assault?
+Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.
+Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
+That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire
+That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand
+Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land.
+Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high;
+Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.
+
+EXTON:
+As full of valour as of royal blood:
+Both have I spill'd; O would the deed were good!
+For now the devil, that told me I did well,
+Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
+This dead king to the living king I'll bear
+Take hence the rest, and give them burial here.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear
+Is that the rebels have consumed with fire
+Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire;
+But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not.
+Welcome, my lord what is the news?
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.
+The next news is, I have to London sent
+The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent:
+The manner of their taking may appear
+At large discoursed in this paper here.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains;
+And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
+
+LORD FITZWATER:
+My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
+The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely,
+Two of the dangerous consorted traitors
+That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot;
+Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.
+
+HENRY PERCY:
+The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,
+With clog of conscience and sour melancholy
+Hath yielded up his body to the grave;
+But here is Carlisle living, to abide
+Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Carlisle, this is your doom:
+Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
+More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;
+So as thou livest in peace, die free from strife:
+For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
+High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
+
+EXTON:
+Great king, within this coffin I present
+Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies
+The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
+Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought
+A deed of slander with thy fatal hand
+Upon my head and all this famous land.
+
+EXTON:
+From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
+
+HENRY BOLINGBROKE:
+They love not poison that do poison need,
+Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,
+I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
+The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
+But neither my good word nor princely favour:
+With Cain go wander through shades of night,
+And never show thy head by day nor light.
+Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,
+That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow:
+Come, mourn with me for that I do lament,
+And put on sullen black incontinent:
+I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
+To wash this blood off from my guilty hand:
+March sadly after; grace my mournings here;
+In weeping after this untimely bier.
+
+
+SAMPSON:
+Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.
+
+GREGORY:
+No, for then we should be colliers.
+
+SAMPSON:
+I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.
+
+GREGORY:
+Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.
+
+SAMPSON:
+I strike quickly, being moved.
+
+GREGORY:
+But thou art not quickly moved to strike.
+
+SAMPSON:
+A dog of the house of Montague moves me.
+
+GREGORY:
+To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:
+therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.
+
+SAMPSON:
+A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will
+take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's.
+
+GREGORY:
+That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes
+to the wall.
+
+SAMPSON:
+True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,
+are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push
+Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids
+to the wall.
+
+GREGORY:
+The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.
+
+SAMPSON:
+'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I
+have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the
+maids, and cut off their heads.
+
+GREGORY:
+The heads of the maids?
+
+SAMPSON:
+Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;
+take it in what sense thou wilt.
+
+GREGORY:
+They must take it in sense that feel it.
+
+SAMPSON:
+Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and
+'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
+
+GREGORY:
+'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou
+hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes
+two of the house of the Montagues.
+
+SAMPSON:
+My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
+
+GREGORY:
+How! turn thy back and run?
+
+SAMPSON:
+Fear me not.
+
+GREGORY:
+No, marry; I fear thee!
+
+SAMPSON:
+Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.
+
+GREGORY:
+I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as
+they list.
+
+SAMPSON:
+Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;
+which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
+
+ABRAHAM:
+Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
+
+SAMPSON:
+I do bite my thumb, sir.
+
+ABRAHAM:
+Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
+
+SAMPSON:
+
+GREGORY:
+No.
+
+SAMPSON:
+No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I
+bite my thumb, sir.
+
+GREGORY:
+Do you quarrel, sir?
+
+ABRAHAM:
+Quarrel sir! no, sir.
+
+SAMPSON:
+If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.
+
+ABRAHAM:
+No better.
+
+SAMPSON:
+Well, sir.
+
+GREGORY:
+Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.
+
+SAMPSON:
+Yes, better, sir.
+
+ABRAHAM:
+You lie.
+
+SAMPSON:
+Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Part, fools!
+Put up your swords; you know not what you do.
+
+TYBALT:
+What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?
+Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,
+Or manage it to part these men with me.
+
+TYBALT:
+What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,
+As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee:
+Have at thee, coward!
+
+First Citizen:
+Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
+Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!
+
+CAPULET:
+What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?
+
+CAPULET:
+My sword, I say! Old Montague is come,
+And flourishes his blade in spite of me.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go.
+
+LADY MONTAGUE:
+Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.
+
+PRINCE:
+Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
+Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
+Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
+That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
+With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
+On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
+Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
+And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
+Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
+By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
+Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
+And made Verona's ancient citizens
+Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
+To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
+Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
+If ever you disturb our streets again,
+Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
+For this time, all the rest depart away:
+You Capulet; shall go along with me:
+And, Montague, come you this afternoon,
+To know our further pleasure in this case,
+To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.
+Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?
+Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Here were the servants of your adversary,
+And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:
+I drew to part them: in the instant came
+The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared,
+Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,
+He swung about his head and cut the winds,
+Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:
+While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,
+Came more and more and fought on part and part,
+Till the prince came, who parted either part.
+
+LADY MONTAGUE:
+O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
+Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
+Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
+A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
+Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
+That westward rooteth from the city's side,
+So early walking did I see your son:
+Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
+And stole into the covert of the wood:
+I, measuring his affections by my own,
+That most are busied when they're most alone,
+Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
+And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Many a morning hath he there been seen,
+With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.
+Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
+But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
+Should in the furthest east begin to draw
+The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
+Away from the light steals home my heavy son,
+And private in his chamber pens himself,
+Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out
+And makes himself an artificial night:
+Black and portentous must this humour prove,
+Unless good counsel may the cause remove.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+My noble uncle, do you know the cause?
+
+MONTAGUE:
+I neither know it nor can learn of him.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Have you importuned him by any means?
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Both by myself and many other friends:
+But he, his own affections' counsellor,
+Is to himself--I will not say how true--
+But to himself so secret and so close,
+So far from sounding and discovery,
+As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
+Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
+Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
+Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
+We would as willingly give cure as know.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
+I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
+To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Good-morrow, cousin.
+
+ROMEO:
+Is the day so young?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+But new struck nine.
+
+ROMEO:
+Ay me! sad hours seem long.
+Was that my father that went hence so fast?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?
+
+ROMEO:
+Not having that, which, having, makes them short.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+In love?
+
+ROMEO:
+Out--
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Of love?
+
+ROMEO:
+Out of her favour, where I am in love.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
+Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!
+
+ROMEO:
+Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
+Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
+Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
+Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
+Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
+Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
+O any thing, of nothing first create!
+O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
+Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
+Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,
+sick health!
+Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
+This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
+Dost thou not laugh?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+No, coz, I rather weep.
+
+ROMEO:
+Good heart, at what?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+At thy good heart's oppression.
+
+ROMEO:
+Why, such is love's transgression.
+Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
+Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
+With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown
+Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
+Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
+Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
+Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
+What is it else? a madness most discreet,
+A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
+Farewell, my coz.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Soft! I will go along;
+An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.
+
+ROMEO:
+Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
+This is not Romeo, he's some other where.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.
+
+ROMEO:
+What, shall I groan and tell thee?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Groan! why, no.
+But sadly tell me who.
+
+ROMEO:
+Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:
+Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!
+In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.
+
+ROMEO:
+A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.
+
+ROMEO:
+Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit
+With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;
+And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,
+From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.
+She will not stay the siege of loving terms,
+Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,
+Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:
+O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,
+That when she dies with beauty dies her store.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?
+
+ROMEO:
+She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,
+For beauty starved with her severity
+Cuts beauty off from all posterity.
+She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,
+To merit bliss by making me despair:
+She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow
+Do I live dead that live to tell it now.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.
+
+ROMEO:
+O, teach me how I should forget to think.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+By giving liberty unto thine eyes;
+Examine other beauties.
+
+ROMEO:
+'Tis the way
+To call hers exquisite, in question more:
+These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows
+Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;
+He that is strucken blind cannot forget
+The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:
+Show me a mistress that is passing fair,
+What doth her beauty serve, but as a note
+Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
+Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.
+
+CAPULET:
+But Montague is bound as well as I,
+In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,
+For men so old as we to keep the peace.
+
+PARIS:
+Of honourable reckoning are you both;
+And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.
+But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?
+
+CAPULET:
+But saying o'er what I have said before:
+My child is yet a stranger in the world;
+She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,
+Let two more summers wither in their pride,
+Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.
+
+PARIS:
+Younger than she are happy mothers made.
+
+CAPULET:
+And too soon marr'd are those so early made.
+The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,
+She is the hopeful lady of my earth:
+But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart,
+My will to her consent is but a part;
+An she agree, within her scope of choice
+Lies my consent and fair according voice.
+This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,
+Whereto I have invited many a guest,
+Such as I love; and you, among the store,
+One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
+At my poor house look to behold this night
+Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:
+Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
+When well-apparell'd April on the heel
+Of limping winter treads, even such delight
+Among fresh female buds shall you this night
+Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,
+And like her most whose merit most shall be:
+Which on more view, of many mine being one
+May stand in number, though in reckoning none,
+Come, go with me.
+Go, sirrah, trudge about
+Through fair Verona; find those persons out
+Whose names are written there, and to them say,
+My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.
+
+Servant:
+Find them out whose names are written here! It is
+written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his
+yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with
+his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am
+sent to find those persons whose names are here
+writ, and can never find what names the writing
+person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
+One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
+Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
+One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
+Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
+And the rank poison of the old will die.
+
+ROMEO:
+Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+For what, I pray thee?
+
+ROMEO:
+For your broken shin.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Why, Romeo, art thou mad?
+
+ROMEO:
+Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;
+Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
+Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow.
+
+Servant:
+God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?
+
+ROMEO:
+Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
+
+Servant:
+Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I
+pray, can you read any thing you see?
+
+ROMEO:
+Ay, if I know the letters and the language.
+
+Servant:
+Ye say honestly: rest you merry!
+
+ROMEO:
+Stay, fellow; I can read.
+'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;
+County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady
+widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely
+nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine
+uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece
+Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin
+Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair
+assembly: whither should they come?
+
+Servant:
+Up.
+
+ROMEO:
+Whither?
+
+Servant:
+To supper; to our house.
+
+ROMEO:
+Whose house?
+
+Servant:
+My master's.
+
+ROMEO:
+Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.
+
+Servant:
+Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the
+great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house
+of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.
+Rest you merry!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+At this same ancient feast of Capulet's
+Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest,
+With all the admired beauties of Verona:
+Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,
+Compare her face with some that I shall show,
+And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
+
+ROMEO:
+When the devout religion of mine eye
+Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;
+And these, who often drown'd could never die,
+Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!
+One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun
+Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,
+Herself poised with herself in either eye:
+But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
+Your lady's love against some other maid
+That I will show you shining at this feast,
+And she shall scant show well that now shows best.
+
+ROMEO:
+I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,
+But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.
+
+Nurse:
+Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,
+I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!
+God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet!
+
+JULIET:
+How now! who calls?
+
+Nurse:
+Your mother.
+
+JULIET:
+Madam, I am here.
+What is your will?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile,
+We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again;
+I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.
+Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.
+
+Nurse:
+Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+She's not fourteen.
+
+Nurse:
+I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,--
+And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four--
+She is not fourteen. How long is it now
+To Lammas-tide?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+A fortnight and odd days.
+
+Nurse:
+Even or odd, of all days in the year,
+Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.
+Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!--
+Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;
+She was too good for me: but, as I said,
+On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;
+That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
+'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
+And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,--
+Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
+For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
+Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
+My lord and you were then at Mantua:--
+Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said,
+When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
+Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
+To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
+Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,
+To bid me trudge:
+And since that time it is eleven years;
+For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
+She could have run and waddled all about;
+For even the day before, she broke her brow:
+And then my husband--God be with his soul!
+A' was a merry man--took up the child:
+'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?
+Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;
+Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,
+The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'
+To see, now, how a jest shall come about!
+I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,
+I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;
+And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.
+
+Nurse:
+Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
+To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
+And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
+A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
+A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
+'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
+Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
+Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'
+
+JULIET:
+And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I.
+
+Nurse:
+Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!
+Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed:
+An I might live to see thee married once,
+I have my wish.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme
+I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet,
+How stands your disposition to be married?
+
+JULIET:
+It is an honour that I dream not of.
+
+Nurse:
+An honour! were not I thine only nurse,
+I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,
+Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
+Are made already mothers: by my count,
+I was your mother much upon these years
+That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:
+The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
+
+Nurse:
+A man, young lady! lady, such a man
+As all the world--why, he's a man of wax.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Verona's summer hath not such a flower.
+
+Nurse:
+Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+What say you? can you love the gentleman?
+This night you shall behold him at our feast;
+Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
+And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
+Examine every married lineament,
+And see how one another lends content
+And what obscured in this fair volume lies
+Find written in the margent of his eyes.
+This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
+To beautify him, only lacks a cover:
+The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
+For fair without the fair within to hide:
+That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
+That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;
+So shall you share all that he doth possess,
+By having him, making yourself no less.
+
+Nurse:
+No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love?
+
+JULIET:
+I'll look to like, if looking liking move:
+But no more deep will I endart mine eye
+Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
+
+Servant:
+Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you
+called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in
+the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must
+hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+We follow thee.
+Juliet, the county stays.
+
+Nurse:
+Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.
+
+ROMEO:
+What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?
+Or shall we on without a apology?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+The date is out of such prolixity:
+We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,
+Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,
+Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;
+Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke
+After the prompter, for our entrance:
+But let them measure us by what they will;
+We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.
+
+ROMEO:
+Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;
+Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance.
+
+ROMEO:
+Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes
+With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead
+So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,
+And soar with them above a common bound.
+
+ROMEO:
+I am too sore enpierced with his shaft
+To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,
+I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:
+Under love's heavy burden do I sink.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+And, to sink in it, should you burden love;
+Too great oppression for a tender thing.
+
+ROMEO:
+Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,
+Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
+Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
+Give me a case to put my visage in:
+A visor for a visor! what care I
+What curious eye doth quote deformities?
+Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,
+But every man betake him to his legs.
+
+ROMEO:
+A torch for me: let wantons light of heart
+Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,
+For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;
+I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.
+The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:
+If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire
+Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st
+Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!
+
+ROMEO:
+Nay, that's not so.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+I mean, sir, in delay
+We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
+Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits
+Five times in that ere once in our five wits.
+
+ROMEO:
+And we mean well in going to this mask;
+But 'tis no wit to go.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Why, may one ask?
+
+ROMEO:
+I dream'd a dream to-night.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+And so did I.
+
+ROMEO:
+Well, what was yours?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+That dreamers often lie.
+
+ROMEO:
+In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
+She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes
+In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
+On the fore-finger of an alderman,
+Drawn with a team of little atomies
+Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
+Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,
+The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
+The traces of the smallest spider's web,
+The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,
+Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,
+Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,
+Not so big as a round little worm
+Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;
+Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
+Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
+Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
+And in this state she gallops night by night
+Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
+O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,
+O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,
+O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
+Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
+Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:
+Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
+And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;
+And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
+Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,
+Then dreams, he of another benefice:
+Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
+And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
+Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
+Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon
+Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
+And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
+And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
+That plats the manes of horses in the night,
+And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
+Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:
+This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
+That presses them and learns them first to bear,
+Making them women of good carriage:
+This is she--
+
+ROMEO:
+Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!
+Thou talk'st of nothing.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+True, I talk of dreams,
+Which are the children of an idle brain,
+Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
+Which is as thin of substance as the air
+And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
+Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
+And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
+Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;
+Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
+
+ROMEO:
+I fear, too early: for my mind misgives
+Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
+Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
+With this night's revels and expire the term
+Of a despised life closed in my breast
+By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
+But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
+Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Strike, drum.
+
+First Servant:
+Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He
+shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!
+
+Second Servant:
+When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's
+hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.
+
+First Servant:
+Away with the joint-stools, remove the
+court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save
+me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let
+the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.
+Antony, and Potpan!
+
+Second Servant:
+Ay, boy, ready.
+
+First Servant:
+You are looked for and called for, asked for and
+sought for, in the great chamber.
+
+Second Servant:
+We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be
+brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.
+
+CAPULET:
+Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes
+Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.
+Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all
+Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,
+She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?
+Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day
+That I have worn a visor and could tell
+A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
+Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:
+You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.
+A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.
+More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,
+And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.
+Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.
+Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet;
+For you and I are past our dancing days:
+How long is't now since last yourself and I
+Were in a mask?
+
+Second Capulet:
+By'r lady, thirty years.
+
+CAPULET:
+What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:
+'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,
+Come pentecost as quickly as it will,
+Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.
+
+Second Capulet:
+'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;
+His son is thirty.
+
+CAPULET:
+Will you tell me that?
+His son was but a ward two years ago.
+
+ROMEO:
+
+Servant:
+I know not, sir.
+
+ROMEO:
+O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
+It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
+Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;
+Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
+So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
+As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
+The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
+And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
+Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
+For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
+
+TYBALT:
+This, by his voice, should be a Montague.
+Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave
+Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,
+To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?
+Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,
+To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.
+
+CAPULET:
+Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?
+
+TYBALT:
+Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe,
+A villain that is hither come in spite,
+To scorn at our solemnity this night.
+
+CAPULET:
+Young Romeo is it?
+
+TYBALT:
+'Tis he, that villain Romeo.
+
+CAPULET:
+Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;
+He bears him like a portly gentleman;
+And, to say truth, Verona brags of him
+To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:
+I would not for the wealth of all the town
+Here in my house do him disparagement:
+Therefore be patient, take no note of him:
+It is my will, the which if thou respect,
+Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,
+And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.
+
+TYBALT:
+It fits, when such a villain is a guest:
+I'll not endure him.
+
+CAPULET:
+He shall be endured:
+What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;
+Am I the master here, or you? go to.
+You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!
+You'll make a mutiny among my guests!
+You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!
+
+TYBALT:
+Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.
+
+CAPULET:
+Go to, go to;
+You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?
+This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:
+You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.
+Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:
+Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame!
+I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!
+
+TYBALT:
+Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting
+Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.
+I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall
+Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.
+
+ROMEO:
+
+JULIET:
+Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
+Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
+For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
+And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
+
+ROMEO:
+Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
+
+JULIET:
+Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
+
+ROMEO:
+O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
+They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
+
+JULIET:
+Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
+
+ROMEO:
+Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
+Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
+
+JULIET:
+Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
+
+ROMEO:
+Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
+Give me my sin again.
+
+JULIET:
+You kiss by the book.
+
+Nurse:
+Madam, your mother craves a word with you.
+
+ROMEO:
+What is her mother?
+
+Nurse:
+Marry, bachelor,
+Her mother is the lady of the house,
+And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous
+I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;
+I tell you, he that can lay hold of her
+Shall have the chinks.
+
+ROMEO:
+Is she a Capulet?
+O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Away, begone; the sport is at the best.
+
+ROMEO:
+Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.
+
+CAPULET:
+Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;
+We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.
+Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all
+I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.
+More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.
+Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:
+I'll to my rest.
+
+JULIET:
+Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman?
+
+Nurse:
+The son and heir of old Tiberio.
+
+JULIET:
+What's he that now is going out of door?
+
+Nurse:
+Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.
+
+JULIET:
+What's he that follows there, that would not dance?
+
+Nurse:
+I know not.
+
+JULIET:
+Go ask his name: if he be married.
+My grave is like to be my wedding bed.
+
+Nurse:
+His name is Romeo, and a Montague;
+The only son of your great enemy.
+
+JULIET:
+My only love sprung from my only hate!
+Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
+Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
+That I must love a loathed enemy.
+
+Nurse:
+What's this? what's this?
+
+JULIET:
+A rhyme I learn'd even now
+Of one I danced withal.
+
+Nurse:
+Anon, anon!
+Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.
+
+Chorus:
+Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,
+And young affection gapes to be his heir;
+That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,
+With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
+Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,
+Alike betwitched by the charm of looks,
+But to his foe supposed he must complain,
+And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:
+Being held a foe, he may not have access
+To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
+And she as much in love, her means much less
+To meet her new-beloved any where:
+But passion lends them power, time means, to meet
+Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.
+
+ROMEO:
+Can I go forward when my heart is here?
+Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Romeo! my cousin Romeo!
+
+MERCUTIO:
+He is wise;
+And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:
+Call, good Mercutio.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Nay, I'll conjure too.
+Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover!
+Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:
+Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;
+Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;'
+Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,
+One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,
+Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,
+When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!
+He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;
+The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.
+I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
+By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,
+By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh
+And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
+That in thy likeness thou appear to us!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him
+To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
+Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
+Till she had laid it and conjured it down;
+That were some spite: my invocation
+Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name
+I conjure only but to raise up him.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,
+To be consorted with the humorous night:
+Blind is his love and best befits the dark.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
+Now will he sit under a medlar tree,
+And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
+As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.
+Romeo, that she were, O, that she were
+An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear!
+Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;
+This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:
+Come, shall we go?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Go, then; for 'tis in vain
+To seek him here that means not to be found.
+
+ROMEO:
+He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
+But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
+It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
+Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
+Who is already sick and pale with grief,
+That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
+Be not her maid, since she is envious;
+Her vestal livery is but sick and green
+And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
+It is my lady, O, it is my love!
+O, that she knew she were!
+She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
+Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
+I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
+Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
+Having some business, do entreat her eyes
+To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
+What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
+The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
+As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
+Would through the airy region stream so bright
+That birds would sing and think it were not night.
+See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
+O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
+That I might touch that cheek!
+
+JULIET:
+Ay me!
+
+ROMEO:
+She speaks:
+O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
+As glorious to this night, being o'er my head
+As is a winged messenger of heaven
+Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes
+Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him
+When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds
+And sails upon the bosom of the air.
+
+JULIET:
+O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
+Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
+Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
+And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
+
+ROMEO:
+
+JULIET:
+'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
+Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
+What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
+Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
+Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
+What's in a name? that which we call a rose
+By any other name would smell as sweet;
+So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
+Retain that dear perfection which he owes
+Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
+And for that name which is no part of thee
+Take all myself.
+
+ROMEO:
+I take thee at thy word:
+Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
+Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
+
+JULIET:
+What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
+So stumblest on my counsel?
+
+ROMEO:
+By a name
+I know not how to tell thee who I am:
+My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
+Because it is an enemy to thee;
+Had I it written, I would tear the word.
+
+JULIET:
+My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
+Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:
+Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?
+
+ROMEO:
+Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.
+
+JULIET:
+How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
+The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
+And the place death, considering who thou art,
+If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
+
+ROMEO:
+With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
+For stony limits cannot hold love out,
+And what love can do that dares love attempt;
+Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
+
+JULIET:
+If they do see thee, they will murder thee.
+
+ROMEO:
+Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
+Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
+And I am proof against their enmity.
+
+JULIET:
+I would not for the world they saw thee here.
+
+ROMEO:
+I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
+And but thou love me, let them find me here:
+My life were better ended by their hate,
+Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
+
+JULIET:
+By whose direction found'st thou out this place?
+
+ROMEO:
+By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
+He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.
+I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
+As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
+I would adventure for such merchandise.
+
+JULIET:
+Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
+Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
+For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
+Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
+What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
+Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
+And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
+Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
+Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
+If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
+Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
+I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
+So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
+In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
+And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
+But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
+Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
+I should have been more strange, I must confess,
+But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
+My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
+And not impute this yielding to light love,
+Which the dark night hath so discovered.
+
+ROMEO:
+Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
+That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--
+
+JULIET:
+O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
+That monthly changes in her circled orb,
+Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
+
+ROMEO:
+What shall I swear by?
+
+JULIET:
+Do not swear at all;
+Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
+Which is the god of my idolatry,
+And I'll believe thee.
+
+ROMEO:
+If my heart's dear love--
+
+JULIET:
+Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
+I have no joy of this contract to-night:
+It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
+Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
+Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!
+This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
+May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
+Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
+Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
+
+ROMEO:
+O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
+
+JULIET:
+What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?
+
+ROMEO:
+The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.
+
+JULIET:
+I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
+And yet I would it were to give again.
+
+ROMEO:
+Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?
+
+JULIET:
+But to be frank, and give it thee again.
+And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
+My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
+My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
+The more I have, for both are infinite.
+I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!
+Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.
+Stay but a little, I will come again.
+
+ROMEO:
+O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.
+Being in night, all this is but a dream,
+Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.
+
+JULIET:
+Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.
+If that thy bent of love be honourable,
+Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,
+By one that I'll procure to come to thee,
+Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;
+And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay
+And follow thee my lord throughout the world.
+
+Nurse:
+
+JULIET:
+I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well,
+I do beseech thee--
+
+Nurse:
+
+JULIET:
+By and by, I come:--
+To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:
+To-morrow will I send.
+
+ROMEO:
+So thrive my soul--
+
+JULIET:
+A thousand times good night!
+
+ROMEO:
+A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
+Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from
+their books,
+But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
+
+JULIET:
+Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice,
+To lure this tassel-gentle back again!
+Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;
+Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
+And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
+With repetition of my Romeo's name.
+
+ROMEO:
+It is my soul that calls upon my name:
+How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,
+Like softest music to attending ears!
+
+JULIET:
+Romeo!
+
+ROMEO:
+My dear?
+
+JULIET:
+At what o'clock to-morrow
+Shall I send to thee?
+
+ROMEO:
+At the hour of nine.
+
+JULIET:
+I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.
+I have forgot why I did call thee back.
+
+ROMEO:
+Let me stand here till thou remember it.
+
+JULIET:
+I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,
+Remembering how I love thy company.
+
+ROMEO:
+And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,
+Forgetting any other home but this.
+
+JULIET:
+'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
+And yet no further than a wanton's bird;
+Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
+Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
+And with a silk thread plucks it back again,
+So loving-jealous of his liberty.
+
+ROMEO:
+I would I were thy bird.
+
+JULIET:
+Sweet, so would I:
+Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
+Good night, good night! parting is such
+sweet sorrow,
+That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
+
+ROMEO:
+Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
+Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!
+Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,
+His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,
+Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,
+And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels
+From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:
+Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
+The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,
+I must up-fill this osier cage of ours
+With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.
+The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;
+What is her burying grave that is her womb,
+And from her womb children of divers kind
+We sucking on her natural bosom find,
+Many for many virtues excellent,
+None but for some and yet all different.
+O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
+In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
+For nought so vile that on the earth doth live
+But to the earth some special good doth give,
+Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use
+Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
+Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
+And vice sometimes by action dignified.
+Within the infant rind of this small flower
+Poison hath residence and medicine power:
+For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;
+Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.
+Two such opposed kings encamp them still
+In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;
+And where the worser is predominant,
+Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.
+
+ROMEO:
+Good morrow, father.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Benedicite!
+What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
+Young son, it argues a distemper'd head
+So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:
+Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
+And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;
+But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain
+Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:
+Therefore thy earliness doth me assure
+Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;
+Or if not so, then here I hit it right,
+Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
+
+ROMEO:
+That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline?
+
+ROMEO:
+With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no;
+I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?
+
+ROMEO:
+I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.
+I have been feasting with mine enemy,
+Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,
+That's by me wounded: both our remedies
+Within thy help and holy physic lies:
+I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,
+My intercession likewise steads my foe.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;
+Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.
+
+ROMEO:
+Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set
+On the fair daughter of rich Capulet:
+As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;
+And all combined, save what thou must combine
+By holy marriage: when and where and how
+We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,
+I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,
+That thou consent to marry us to-day.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!
+Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear,
+So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies
+Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
+Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine
+Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline!
+How much salt water thrown away in waste,
+To season love, that of it doth not taste!
+The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,
+Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;
+Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit
+Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:
+If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,
+Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline:
+And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,
+Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.
+
+ROMEO:
+Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.
+
+ROMEO:
+And bad'st me bury love.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Not in a grave,
+To lay one in, another out to have.
+
+ROMEO:
+I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now
+Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;
+The other did not so.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+O, she knew well
+Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.
+But come, young waverer, come, go with me,
+In one respect I'll thy assistant be;
+For this alliance may so happy prove,
+To turn your households' rancour to pure love.
+
+ROMEO:
+O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Where the devil should this Romeo be?
+Came he not home to-night?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline.
+Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet,
+Hath sent a letter to his father's house.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+A challenge, on my life.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Romeo will answer it.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Any man that can write may answer a letter.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he
+dares, being dared.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a
+white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a
+love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the
+blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to
+encounter Tybalt?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Why, what is Tybalt?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is
+the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as
+you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and
+proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and
+the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk
+button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the
+very first house, of the first and second cause:
+ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the
+hai!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+The what?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting
+fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,
+a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good
+whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing,
+grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with
+these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these
+perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,
+that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their
+bones, their bones!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh,
+how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers
+that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a
+kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to
+be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy;
+Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey
+eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior
+Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation
+to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit
+fairly last night.
+
+ROMEO:
+Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?
+
+ROMEO:
+Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in
+such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+That's as much as to say, such a case as yours
+constrains a man to bow in the hams.
+
+ROMEO:
+Meaning, to court'sy.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Thou hast most kindly hit it.
+
+ROMEO:
+A most courteous exposition.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
+
+ROMEO:
+Pink for flower.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Right.
+
+ROMEO:
+Why, then is my pump well flowered.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast
+worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it
+is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.
+
+ROMEO:
+O single-soled jest, solely singular for the
+singleness.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint.
+
+ROMEO:
+Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have
+done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of
+thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five:
+was I with you there for the goose?
+
+ROMEO:
+Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast
+not there for the goose.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.
+
+ROMEO:
+Nay, good goose, bite not.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most
+sharp sauce.
+
+ROMEO:
+And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an
+inch narrow to an ell broad!
+
+ROMEO:
+I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added
+to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Why, is not this better now than groaning for love?
+now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art
+thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature:
+for this drivelling love is like a great natural,
+that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Stop there, stop there.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short:
+for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and
+meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.
+
+ROMEO:
+Here's goodly gear!
+
+MERCUTIO:
+A sail, a sail!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Two, two; a shirt and a smock.
+
+Nurse:
+Peter!
+
+PETER:
+Anon!
+
+Nurse:
+My fan, Peter.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the
+fairer face.
+
+Nurse:
+God ye good morrow, gentlemen.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.
+
+Nurse:
+Is it good den?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the
+dial is now upon the prick of noon.
+
+Nurse:
+Out upon you! what a man are you!
+
+ROMEO:
+One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to
+mar.
+
+Nurse:
+By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,'
+quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I
+may find the young Romeo?
+
+ROMEO:
+I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when
+you have found him than he was when you sought him:
+I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.
+
+Nurse:
+You say well.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith;
+wisely, wisely.
+
+Nurse:
+if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with
+you.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+She will indite him to some supper.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!
+
+ROMEO:
+What hast thou found?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie,
+that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.
+An old hare hoar,
+And an old hare hoar,
+Is very good meat in lent
+But a hare that is hoar
+Is too much for a score,
+When it hoars ere it be spent.
+Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll
+to dinner, thither.
+
+ROMEO:
+I will follow you.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,
+'lady, lady, lady.'
+
+Nurse:
+Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy
+merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?
+
+ROMEO:
+A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk,
+and will speak more in a minute than he will stand
+to in a month.
+
+Nurse:
+An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him
+down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such
+Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.
+Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am
+none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by
+too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?
+
+PETER:
+I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon
+should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare
+draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a
+good quarrel, and the law on my side.
+
+Nurse:
+Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about
+me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word:
+and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you
+out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself:
+but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into
+a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross
+kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman
+is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double
+with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered
+to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.
+
+ROMEO:
+Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I
+protest unto thee--
+
+Nurse:
+Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much:
+Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.
+
+ROMEO:
+What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me.
+
+Nurse:
+I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as
+I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.
+
+ROMEO:
+Bid her devise
+Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;
+And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell
+Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.
+
+Nurse:
+No truly sir; not a penny.
+
+ROMEO:
+Go to; I say you shall.
+
+Nurse:
+This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.
+
+ROMEO:
+And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall:
+Within this hour my man shall be with thee
+And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;
+Which to the high top-gallant of my joy
+Must be my convoy in the secret night.
+Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:
+Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.
+
+Nurse:
+Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.
+
+ROMEO:
+What say'st thou, my dear nurse?
+
+Nurse:
+Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
+Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
+
+ROMEO:
+I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.
+
+NURSE:
+Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord,
+Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there
+is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain
+lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief
+see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her
+sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer
+man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks
+as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not
+rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter?
+
+ROMEO:
+Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R.
+
+Nurse:
+Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for
+the--No; I know it begins with some other
+letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of
+it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good
+to hear it.
+
+ROMEO:
+Commend me to thy lady.
+
+Nurse:
+Ay, a thousand times.
+Peter!
+
+PETER:
+Anon!
+
+Nurse:
+Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace.
+
+JULIET:
+The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse;
+In half an hour she promised to return.
+Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.
+O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,
+Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,
+Driving back shadows over louring hills:
+Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
+And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
+Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
+Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve
+Is three long hours, yet she is not come.
+Had she affections and warm youthful blood,
+She would be as swift in motion as a ball;
+My words would bandy her to my sweet love,
+And his to me:
+But old folks, many feign as they were dead;
+Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.
+O God, she comes!
+O honey nurse, what news?
+Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.
+
+Nurse:
+Peter, stay at the gate.
+
+JULIET:
+Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad?
+Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
+If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news
+By playing it to me with so sour a face.
+
+Nurse:
+I am a-weary, give me leave awhile:
+Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!
+
+JULIET:
+I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
+Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak.
+
+Nurse:
+Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?
+Do you not see that I am out of breath?
+
+JULIET:
+How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath
+To say to me that thou art out of breath?
+The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
+Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
+Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
+Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
+Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?
+
+Nurse:
+Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not
+how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his
+face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels
+all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,
+though they be not to be talked on, yet they are
+past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy,
+but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy
+ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home?
+
+JULIET:
+No, no: but all this did I know before.
+What says he of our marriage? what of that?
+
+Nurse:
+Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!
+It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.
+My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back!
+Beshrew your heart for sending me about,
+To catch my death with jaunting up and down!
+
+JULIET:
+I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
+Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love?
+
+Nurse:
+Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a
+courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I
+warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?
+
+JULIET:
+Where is my mother! why, she is within;
+Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!
+'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,
+Where is your mother?'
+
+Nurse:
+O God's lady dear!
+Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;
+Is this the poultice for my aching bones?
+Henceforward do your messages yourself.
+
+JULIET:
+Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo?
+
+Nurse:
+Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?
+
+JULIET:
+I have.
+
+Nurse:
+Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell;
+There stays a husband to make you a wife:
+Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
+They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
+Hie you to church; I must another way,
+To fetch a ladder, by the which your love
+Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark:
+I am the drudge and toil in your delight,
+But you shall bear the burden soon at night.
+Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell.
+
+JULIET:
+Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+So smile the heavens upon this holy act,
+That after hours with sorrow chide us not!
+
+ROMEO:
+Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
+It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
+That one short minute gives me in her sight:
+Do thou but close our hands with holy words,
+Then love-devouring death do what he dare;
+It is enough I may but call her mine.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+These violent delights have violent ends
+And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
+Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey
+Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
+And in the taste confounds the appetite:
+Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
+Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
+Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot
+Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
+A lover may bestride the gossamer
+That idles in the wanton summer air,
+And yet not fall; so light is vanity.
+
+JULIET:
+Good even to my ghostly confessor.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.
+
+JULIET:
+As much to him, else is his thanks too much.
+
+ROMEO:
+Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
+Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more
+To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
+This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
+Unfold the imagined happiness that both
+Receive in either by this dear encounter.
+
+JULIET:
+Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
+Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
+They are but beggars that can count their worth;
+But my true love is grown to such excess
+I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Come, come with me, and we will make short work;
+For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone
+Till holy church incorporate two in one.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire:
+The day is hot, the Capulets abroad,
+And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl;
+For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Thou art like one of those fellows that when he
+enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword
+upon the table and says 'God send me no need of
+thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws
+it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Am I like such a fellow?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as
+any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as
+soon moody to be moved.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+And what to?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Nay, an there were two such, we should have none
+shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,
+thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,
+or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou
+wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no
+other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what
+eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?
+Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of
+meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as
+an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a
+man for coughing in the street, because he hath
+wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:
+didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing
+his new doublet before Easter? with another, for
+tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou
+wilt tutor me from quarrelling!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man
+should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+The fee-simple! O simple!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+By my head, here come the Capulets.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+By my heel, I care not.
+
+TYBALT:
+Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
+Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+And but one word with one of us? couple it with
+something; make it a word and a blow.
+
+TYBALT:
+You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you
+will give me occasion.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Could you not take some occasion without giving?
+
+TYBALT:
+Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,--
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an
+thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but
+discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall
+make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+We talk here in the public haunt of men:
+Either withdraw unto some private place,
+And reason coldly of your grievances,
+Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;
+I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.
+
+TYBALT:
+Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:
+Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;
+Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'
+
+TYBALT:
+Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford
+No better term than this,--thou art a villain.
+
+ROMEO:
+Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
+Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
+To such a greeting: villain am I none;
+Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.
+
+TYBALT:
+Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries
+That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.
+
+ROMEO:
+I do protest, I never injured thee,
+But love thee better than thou canst devise,
+Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:
+And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender
+As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
+Alla stoccata carries it away.
+Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?
+
+TYBALT:
+What wouldst thou have with me?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine
+lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you
+shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the
+eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher
+by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your
+ears ere it be out.
+
+TYBALT:
+I am for you.
+
+ROMEO:
+Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Come, sir, your passado.
+
+ROMEO:
+Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons.
+Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!
+Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath
+Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:
+Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio!
+
+MERCUTIO:
+I am hurt.
+A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.
+Is he gone, and hath nothing?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+What, art thou hurt?
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.
+Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.
+
+ROMEO:
+Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a
+church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for
+me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I
+am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'
+both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a
+cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a
+rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of
+arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I
+was hurt under your arm.
+
+ROMEO:
+I thought all for the best.
+
+MERCUTIO:
+Help me into some house, Benvolio,
+Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!
+They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,
+And soundly too: your houses!
+
+ROMEO:
+This gentleman, the prince's near ally,
+My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt
+In my behalf; my reputation stain'd
+With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour
+Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet,
+Thy beauty hath made me effeminate
+And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead!
+That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,
+Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
+
+ROMEO:
+This day's black fate on more days doth depend;
+This but begins the woe, others must end.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Here comes the furious Tybalt back again.
+
+ROMEO:
+Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain!
+Away to heaven, respective lenity,
+And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!
+Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again,
+That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul
+Is but a little way above our heads,
+Staying for thine to keep him company:
+Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.
+
+TYBALT:
+Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,
+Shalt with him hence.
+
+ROMEO:
+This shall determine that.
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Romeo, away, be gone!
+The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.
+Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,
+If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!
+
+ROMEO:
+O, I am fortune's fool!
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Why dost thou stay?
+
+First Citizen:
+Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio?
+Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+There lies that Tybalt.
+
+First Citizen:
+Up, sir, go with me;
+I charge thee in the princes name, obey.
+
+PRINCE:
+Where are the vile beginners of this fray?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+O noble prince, I can discover all
+The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:
+There lies the man, slain by young Romeo,
+That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child!
+O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt
+O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,
+For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague.
+O cousin, cousin!
+
+PRINCE:
+Benvolio, who began this bloody fray?
+
+BENVOLIO:
+Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay;
+Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink
+How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal
+Your high displeasure: all this uttered
+With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,
+Could not take truce with the unruly spleen
+Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts
+With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast,
+Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
+And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats
+Cold death aside, and with the other sends
+It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity,
+Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud,
+'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than
+his tongue,
+His agile arm beats down their fatal points,
+And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm
+An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life
+Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled;
+But by and by comes back to Romeo,
+Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,
+And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I
+Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain.
+And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly.
+This is the truth, or let Benvolio die.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+He is a kinsman to the Montague;
+Affection makes him false; he speaks not true:
+Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,
+And all those twenty could but kill one life.
+I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;
+Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live.
+
+PRINCE:
+Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio;
+Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend;
+His fault concludes but what the law should end,
+The life of Tybalt.
+
+PRINCE:
+And for that offence
+Immediately we do exile him hence:
+I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,
+My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;
+But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine
+That you shall all repent the loss of mine:
+I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;
+Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses:
+Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste,
+Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.
+Bear hence this body and attend our will:
+Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
+
+JULIET:
+Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,
+Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner
+As Phaethon would whip you to the west,
+And bring in cloudy night immediately.
+Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,
+That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo
+Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.
+Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
+By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
+It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,
+Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,
+And learn me how to lose a winning match,
+Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:
+Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,
+With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,
+Think true love acted simple modesty.
+Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
+For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
+Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.
+Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,
+Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,
+Take him and cut him out in little stars,
+And he will make the face of heaven so fine
+That all the world will be in love with night
+And pay no worship to the garish sun.
+O, I have bought the mansion of a love,
+But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,
+Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day
+As is the night before some festival
+To an impatient child that hath new robes
+And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,
+And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks
+But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.
+Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords
+That Romeo bid thee fetch?
+
+Nurse:
+Ay, ay, the cords.
+
+JULIET:
+Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?
+
+Nurse:
+Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!
+We are undone, lady, we are undone!
+Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!
+
+JULIET:
+Can heaven be so envious?
+
+Nurse:
+Romeo can,
+Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo!
+Who ever would have thought it? Romeo!
+
+JULIET:
+What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
+This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.
+Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,'
+And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more
+Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:
+I am not I, if there be such an I;
+Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.'
+If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no:
+Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.
+
+Nurse:
+I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,--
+God save the mark!--here on his manly breast:
+A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;
+Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,
+All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.
+
+JULIET:
+O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once!
+To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty!
+Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
+And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!
+
+Nurse:
+O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had!
+O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman!
+That ever I should live to see thee dead!
+
+JULIET:
+What storm is this that blows so contrary?
+Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead?
+My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord?
+Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!
+For who is living, if those two are gone?
+
+Nurse:
+Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished;
+Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished.
+
+JULIET:
+O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood?
+
+Nurse:
+It did, it did; alas the day, it did!
+
+JULIET:
+O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!
+Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?
+Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
+Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!
+Despised substance of divinest show!
+Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,
+A damned saint, an honourable villain!
+O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,
+When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend
+In moral paradise of such sweet flesh?
+Was ever book containing such vile matter
+So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell
+In such a gorgeous palace!
+
+Nurse:
+There's no trust,
+No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,
+All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
+Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae:
+These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.
+Shame come to Romeo!
+
+JULIET:
+Blister'd be thy tongue
+For such a wish! he was not born to shame:
+Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;
+For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd
+Sole monarch of the universal earth.
+O, what a beast was I to chide at him!
+
+Nurse:
+Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?
+
+JULIET:
+Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?
+Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,
+When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?
+But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?
+That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:
+Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
+Your tributary drops belong to woe,
+Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.
+My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain;
+And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:
+All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?
+Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death,
+That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;
+But, O, it presses to my memory,
+Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:
+'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;'
+That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'
+Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death
+Was woe enough, if it had ended there:
+Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship
+And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,
+Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,'
+Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,
+Which modern lamentations might have moved?
+But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death,
+'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word,
+Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet,
+All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!'
+There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,
+In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.
+Where is my father, and my mother, nurse?
+
+Nurse:
+Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
+Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.
+
+JULIET:
+Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,
+When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment.
+Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled,
+Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled:
+He made you for a highway to my bed;
+But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.
+Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed;
+And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
+
+Nurse:
+Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo
+To comfort you: I wot well where he is.
+Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night:
+I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell.
+
+JULIET:
+O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,
+And bid him come to take his last farewell.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:
+Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
+And thou art wedded to calamity.
+
+ROMEO:
+Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?
+What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,
+That I yet know not?
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Too familiar
+Is my dear son with such sour company:
+I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.
+
+ROMEO:
+What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,
+Not body's death, but body's banishment.
+
+ROMEO:
+Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'
+For exile hath more terror in his look,
+Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Hence from Verona art thou banished:
+Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
+
+ROMEO:
+There is no world without Verona walls,
+But purgatory, torture, hell itself.
+Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,
+And world's exile is death: then banished,
+Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,
+Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,
+And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!
+Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,
+Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,
+And turn'd that black word death to banishment:
+This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.
+
+ROMEO:
+'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,
+Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
+And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
+Live here in heaven and may look on her;
+But Romeo may not: more validity,
+More honourable state, more courtship lives
+In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize
+On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand
+And steal immortal blessing from her lips,
+Who even in pure and vestal modesty,
+Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;
+But Romeo may not; he is banished:
+Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:
+They are free men, but I am banished.
+And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?
+Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,
+No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,
+But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'?
+O friar, the damned use that word in hell;
+Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,
+Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
+A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,
+To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.
+
+ROMEO:
+O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:
+Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
+To comfort thee, though thou art banished.
+
+ROMEO:
+Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!
+Unless philosophy can make a Juliet,
+Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,
+It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+O, then I see that madmen have no ears.
+
+ROMEO:
+How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.
+
+ROMEO:
+Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel:
+Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
+An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
+Doting like me and like me banished,
+Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
+And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
+Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself.
+
+ROMEO:
+Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans,
+Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise;
+Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up;
+Run to my study. By and by! God's will,
+What simpleness is this! I come, I come!
+Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?
+
+Nurse:
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Welcome, then.
+
+Nurse:
+O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,
+Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo?
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.
+
+Nurse:
+O, he is even in my mistress' case,
+Just in her case! O woful sympathy!
+Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,
+Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.
+Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man:
+For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;
+Why should you fall into so deep an O?
+
+ROMEO:
+Nurse!
+
+Nurse:
+Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.
+
+ROMEO:
+Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her?
+Doth she not think me an old murderer,
+Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
+With blood removed but little from her own?
+Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
+My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?
+
+Nurse:
+O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;
+And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,
+And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries,
+And then down falls again.
+
+ROMEO:
+As if that name,
+Shot from the deadly level of a gun,
+Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand
+Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me,
+In what vile part of this anatomy
+Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack
+The hateful mansion.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Hold thy desperate hand:
+Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:
+Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote
+The unreasonable fury of a beast:
+Unseemly woman in a seeming man!
+Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!
+Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,
+I thought thy disposition better temper'd.
+Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself?
+And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,
+By doing damned hate upon thyself?
+Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?
+Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet
+In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.
+Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit;
+Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,
+And usest none in that true use indeed
+Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit:
+Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,
+Digressing from the valour of a man;
+Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,
+Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;
+Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,
+Misshapen in the conduct of them both,
+Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,
+Is set afire by thine own ignorance,
+And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.
+What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive,
+For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;
+There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee,
+But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too:
+The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend
+And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:
+A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;
+Happiness courts thee in her best array;
+But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,
+Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:
+Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.
+Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,
+Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:
+But look thou stay not till the watch be set,
+For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;
+Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time
+To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,
+Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back
+With twenty hundred thousand times more joy
+Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.
+Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady;
+And bid her hasten all the house to bed,
+Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:
+Romeo is coming.
+
+Nurse:
+O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night
+To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!
+My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.
+
+ROMEO:
+Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.
+
+Nurse:
+Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:
+Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.
+
+ROMEO:
+How well my comfort is revived by this!
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:
+Either be gone before the watch be set,
+Or by the break of day disguised from hence:
+Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,
+And he shall signify from time to time
+Every good hap to you that chances here:
+Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.
+
+ROMEO:
+But that a joy past joy calls out on me,
+It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.
+
+CAPULET:
+Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,
+That we have had no time to move our daughter:
+Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly,
+And so did I:--Well, we were born to die.
+'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:
+I promise you, but for your company,
+I would have been a-bed an hour ago.
+
+PARIS:
+These times of woe afford no time to woo.
+Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;
+To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.
+
+CAPULET:
+Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender
+Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled
+In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.
+Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
+Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;
+And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--
+But, soft! what day is this?
+
+PARIS:
+Monday, my lord,
+
+CAPULET:
+Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,
+O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,
+She shall be married to this noble earl.
+Will you be ready? do you like this haste?
+We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two;
+For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late,
+It may be thought we held him carelessly,
+Being our kinsman, if we revel much:
+Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,
+And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?
+
+PARIS:
+My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.
+
+CAPULET:
+Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then.
+Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed,
+Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.
+Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!
+Afore me! it is so very very late,
+That we may call it early by and by.
+Good night.
+
+JULIET:
+Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
+It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
+That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
+Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
+Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
+
+ROMEO:
+It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
+No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
+Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
+Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
+Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
+I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
+
+JULIET:
+Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:
+It is some meteor that the sun exhales,
+To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
+And light thee on thy way to Mantua:
+Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.
+
+ROMEO:
+Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;
+I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
+I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,
+'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;
+Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
+The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:
+I have more care to stay than will to go:
+Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
+How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.
+
+JULIET:
+It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!
+It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
+Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
+Some say the lark makes sweet division;
+This doth not so, for she divideth us:
+Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,
+O, now I would they had changed voices too!
+Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,
+Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,
+O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.
+
+ROMEO:
+More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!
+
+Nurse:
+Madam!
+
+JULIET:
+Nurse?
+
+Nurse:
+Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:
+The day is broke; be wary, look about.
+
+JULIET:
+Then, window, let day in, and let life out.
+
+ROMEO:
+Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.
+
+JULIET:
+Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!
+I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
+For in a minute there are many days:
+O, by this count I shall be much in years
+Ere I again behold my Romeo!
+
+ROMEO:
+Farewell!
+I will omit no opportunity
+That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.
+
+JULIET:
+O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?
+
+ROMEO:
+I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve
+For sweet discourses in our time to come.
+
+JULIET:
+O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
+Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
+As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
+Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.
+
+ROMEO:
+And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:
+Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!
+
+JULIET:
+O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
+If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him.
+That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;
+For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,
+But send him back.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+
+JULIET:
+Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?
+Is she not down so late, or up so early?
+What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Why, how now, Juliet!
+
+JULIET:
+Madam, I am not well.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?
+What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?
+An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live;
+Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love;
+But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
+
+JULIET:
+Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
+Which you weep for.
+
+JULIET:
+Feeling so the loss,
+Cannot choose but ever weep the friend.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,
+As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.
+
+JULIET:
+What villain madam?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+That same villain, Romeo.
+
+JULIET:
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+That is, because the traitor murderer lives.
+
+JULIET:
+Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:
+Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:
+Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,
+Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,
+Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,
+That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
+And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
+
+JULIET:
+Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
+With Romeo, till I behold him--dead--
+Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.
+Madam, if you could find out but a man
+To bear a poison, I would temper it;
+That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
+Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
+To hear him named, and cannot come to him.
+To wreak the love I bore my cousin
+Upon his body that slaughter'd him!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.
+But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.
+
+JULIET:
+And joy comes well in such a needy time:
+What are they, I beseech your ladyship?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;
+One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,
+Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,
+That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for.
+
+JULIET:
+Madam, in happy time, what day is that?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,
+The gallant, young and noble gentleman,
+The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church,
+Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.
+
+JULIET:
+Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,
+He shall not make me there a joyful bride.
+I wonder at this haste; that I must wed
+Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.
+I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,
+I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,
+It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,
+Rather than Paris. These are news indeed!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,
+And see how he will take it at your hands.
+
+CAPULET:
+When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;
+But for the sunset of my brother's son
+It rains downright.
+How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?
+Evermore showering? In one little body
+Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;
+For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,
+Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,
+Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;
+Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,
+Without a sudden calm, will overset
+Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!
+Have you deliver'd to her our decree?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
+I would the fool were married to her grave!
+
+CAPULET:
+Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife.
+How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?
+Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,
+Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought
+So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?
+
+JULIET:
+Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have:
+Proud can I never be of what I hate;
+But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.
+
+CAPULET:
+How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?
+'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;'
+And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you,
+Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,
+But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,
+To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church,
+Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
+Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!
+You tallow-face!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Fie, fie! what, are you mad?
+
+JULIET:
+Good father, I beseech you on my knees,
+Hear me with patience but to speak a word.
+
+CAPULET:
+Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!
+I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday,
+Or never after look me in the face:
+Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;
+My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest
+That God had lent us but this only child;
+But now I see this one is one too much,
+And that we have a curse in having her:
+Out on her, hilding!
+
+Nurse:
+God in heaven bless her!
+You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.
+
+CAPULET:
+And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,
+Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.
+
+Nurse:
+I speak no treason.
+
+CAPULET:
+O, God ye god-den.
+
+Nurse:
+May not one speak?
+
+CAPULET:
+Peace, you mumbling fool!
+Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl;
+For here we need it not.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+You are too hot.
+
+CAPULET:
+God's bread! it makes me mad:
+Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,
+Alone, in company, still my care hath been
+To have her match'd: and having now provided
+A gentleman of noble parentage,
+Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,
+Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,
+Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man;
+And then to have a wretched puling fool,
+A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,
+To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,
+I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'
+But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you:
+Graze where you will you shall not house with me:
+Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.
+Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:
+An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;
+And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in
+the streets,
+For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,
+Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:
+Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn.
+
+JULIET:
+Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
+That sees into the bottom of my grief?
+O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!
+Delay this marriage for a month, a week;
+Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed
+In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word:
+Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.
+
+JULIET:
+O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented?
+My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;
+How shall that faith return again to earth,
+Unless that husband send it me from heaven
+By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me.
+Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems
+Upon so soft a subject as myself!
+What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?
+Some comfort, nurse.
+
+Nurse:
+Faith, here it is.
+Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,
+That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;
+Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.
+Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,
+I think it best you married with the county.
+O, he's a lovely gentleman!
+Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam,
+Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye
+As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart,
+I think you are happy in this second match,
+For it excels your first: or if it did not,
+Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,
+As living here and you no use of him.
+
+JULIET:
+Speakest thou from thy heart?
+
+Nurse:
+And from my soul too;
+Or else beshrew them both.
+
+JULIET:
+Amen!
+
+Nurse:
+What?
+
+JULIET:
+Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.
+Go in: and tell my lady I am gone,
+Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell,
+To make confession and to be absolved.
+
+Nurse:
+Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.
+
+JULIET:
+Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!
+Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,
+Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue
+Which she hath praised him with above compare
+So many thousand times? Go, counsellor;
+Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.
+I'll to the friar, to know his remedy:
+If all else fail, myself have power to die.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.
+
+PARIS:
+My father Capulet will have it so;
+And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+You say you do not know the lady's mind:
+Uneven is the course, I like it not.
+
+PARIS:
+Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death,
+And therefore have I little talk'd of love;
+For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
+Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous
+That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,
+And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,
+To stop the inundation of her tears;
+Which, too much minded by herself alone,
+May be put from her by society:
+Now do you know the reason of this haste.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+
+PARIS:
+Happily met, my lady and my wife!
+
+JULIET:
+That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.
+
+PARIS:
+That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.
+
+JULIET:
+What must be shall be.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+That's a certain text.
+
+PARIS:
+Come you to make confession to this father?
+
+JULIET:
+To answer that, I should confess to you.
+
+PARIS:
+Do not deny to him that you love me.
+
+JULIET:
+I will confess to you that I love him.
+
+PARIS:
+So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.
+
+JULIET:
+If I do so, it will be of more price,
+Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.
+
+PARIS:
+Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.
+
+JULIET:
+The tears have got small victory by that;
+For it was bad enough before their spite.
+
+PARIS:
+Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.
+
+JULIET:
+That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;
+And what I spake, I spake it to my face.
+
+PARIS:
+Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.
+
+JULIET:
+It may be so, for it is not mine own.
+Are you at leisure, holy father, now;
+Or shall I come to you at evening mass?
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.
+My lord, we must entreat the time alone.
+
+PARIS:
+God shield I should disturb devotion!
+Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:
+Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.
+
+JULIET:
+O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,
+Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief;
+It strains me past the compass of my wits:
+I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,
+On Thursday next be married to this county.
+
+JULIET:
+Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,
+Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:
+If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,
+Do thou but call my resolution wise,
+And with this knife I'll help it presently.
+God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands;
+And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd,
+Shall be the label to another deed,
+Or my true heart with treacherous revolt
+Turn to another, this shall slay them both:
+Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,
+Give me some present counsel, or, behold,
+'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife
+Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that
+Which the commission of thy years and art
+Could to no issue of true honour bring.
+Be not so long to speak; I long to die,
+If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,
+Which craves as desperate an execution.
+As that is desperate which we would prevent.
+If, rather than to marry County Paris,
+Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,
+Then is it likely thou wilt undertake
+A thing like death to chide away this shame,
+That copest with death himself to scape from it:
+And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.
+
+JULIET:
+O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
+From off the battlements of yonder tower;
+Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
+Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;
+Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
+O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
+With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
+Or bid me go into a new-made grave
+And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
+Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
+And I will do it without fear or doubt,
+To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent
+To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow:
+To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;
+Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber:
+Take thou this vial, being then in bed,
+And this distilled liquor drink thou off;
+When presently through all thy veins shall run
+A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse
+Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:
+No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;
+The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade
+To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,
+Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;
+Each part, deprived of supple government,
+Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:
+And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death
+Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,
+And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.
+Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes
+To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
+Then, as the manner of our country is,
+In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier
+Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault
+Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie.
+In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,
+Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift,
+And hither shall he come: and he and I
+Will watch thy waking, and that very night
+Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua.
+And this shall free thee from this present shame;
+If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,
+Abate thy valour in the acting it.
+
+JULIET:
+Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous
+In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed
+To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.
+
+JULIET:
+Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.
+Farewell, dear father!
+
+CAPULET:
+So many guests invite as here are writ.
+Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.
+
+Second Servant:
+You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they
+can lick their fingers.
+
+CAPULET:
+How canst thou try them so?
+
+Second Servant:
+Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his
+own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his
+fingers goes not with me.
+
+CAPULET:
+Go, be gone.
+We shall be much unfurnished for this time.
+What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence?
+
+Nurse:
+Ay, forsooth.
+
+CAPULET:
+Well, he may chance to do some good on her:
+A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.
+
+Nurse:
+See where she comes from shrift with merry look.
+
+CAPULET:
+How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?
+
+JULIET:
+Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin
+Of disobedient opposition
+To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd
+By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here,
+And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you!
+Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.
+
+CAPULET:
+Send for the county; go tell him of this:
+I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.
+
+JULIET:
+I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell;
+And gave him what becomed love I might,
+Not step o'er the bounds of modesty.
+
+CAPULET:
+Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up:
+This is as't should be. Let me see the county;
+Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.
+Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar,
+Our whole city is much bound to him.
+
+JULIET:
+Nurse, will you go with me into my closet,
+To help me sort such needful ornaments
+As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+No, not till Thursday; there is time enough.
+
+CAPULET:
+Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow.
+
+LADY  CAPULET:
+We shall be short in our provision:
+'Tis now near night.
+
+CAPULET:
+Tush, I will stir about,
+And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:
+Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her;
+I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone;
+I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!
+They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself
+To County Paris, to prepare him up
+Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,
+Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.
+
+JULIET:
+Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse,
+I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night,
+For I have need of many orisons
+To move the heavens to smile upon my state,
+Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?
+
+JULIET:
+No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries
+As are behoveful for our state to-morrow:
+So please you, let me now be left alone,
+And let the nurse this night sit up with you;
+For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,
+In this so sudden business.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Good night:
+Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.
+
+JULIET:
+Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
+I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
+That almost freezes up the heat of life:
+I'll call them back again to comfort me:
+Nurse! What should she do here?
+My dismal scene I needs must act alone.
+Come, vial.
+What if this mixture do not work at all?
+Shall I be married then to-morrow morning?
+No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there.
+What if it be a poison, which the friar
+Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,
+Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
+Because he married me before to Romeo?
+I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
+For he hath still been tried a holy man.
+How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
+I wake before the time that Romeo
+Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
+Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault,
+To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,
+And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
+Or, if I live, is it not very like,
+The horrible conceit of death and night,
+Together with the terror of the place,--
+As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
+Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
+Of all my buried ancestors are packed:
+Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
+Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,
+At some hours in the night spirits resort;--
+Alack, alack, is it not like that I,
+So early waking, what with loathsome smells,
+And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,
+That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:--
+O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
+Environed with all these hideous fears?
+And madly play with my forefather's joints?
+And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
+And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,
+As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?
+O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
+Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body
+Upon a rapier's point: stay, Tybalt, stay!
+Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse.
+
+Nurse:
+They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.
+
+CAPULET:
+Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,
+The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:
+Look to the baked meats, good Angelica:
+Spare not for the cost.
+
+Nurse:
+Go, you cot-quean, go,
+Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow
+For this night's watching.
+
+CAPULET:
+No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now
+All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;
+But I will watch you from such watching now.
+
+CAPULET:
+A jealous hood, a jealous hood!
+Now, fellow,
+What's there?
+
+First Servant:
+Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.
+
+CAPULET:
+Make haste, make haste.
+Sirrah, fetch drier logs:
+Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.
+
+Second Servant:
+I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,
+And never trouble Peter for the matter.
+
+CAPULET:
+Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!
+Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day:
+The county will be here with music straight,
+For so he said he would: I hear him near.
+Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say!
+Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up;
+I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste,
+Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already:
+Make haste, I say.
+
+Nurse:
+Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she:
+Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed!
+Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride!
+What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now;
+Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,
+The County Paris hath set up his rest,
+That you shall rest but little. God forgive me,
+Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!
+I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam!
+Ay, let the county take you in your bed;
+He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be?
+What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again!
+I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady!
+Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead!
+O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!
+Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+What noise is here?
+
+Nurse:
+O lamentable day!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+What is the matter?
+
+Nurse:
+Look, look! O heavy day!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+O me, O me! My child, my only life,
+Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!
+Help, help! Call help.
+
+CAPULET:
+For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come.
+
+Nurse:
+She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead!
+
+CAPULET:
+Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold:
+Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;
+Life and these lips have long been separated:
+Death lies on her like an untimely frost
+Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
+
+Nurse:
+O lamentable day!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+O woful time!
+
+CAPULET:
+Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,
+Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Come, is the bride ready to go to church?
+
+CAPULET:
+Ready to go, but never to return.
+O son! the night before thy wedding-day
+Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,
+Flower as she was, deflowered by him.
+Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;
+My daughter he hath wedded: I will die,
+And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.
+
+PARIS:
+Have I thought long to see this morning's face,
+And doth it give me such a sight as this?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!
+Most miserable hour that e'er time saw
+In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!
+But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
+But one thing to rejoice and solace in,
+And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!
+
+Nurse:
+O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!
+Most lamentable day, most woful day,
+That ever, ever, I did yet behold!
+O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!
+Never was seen so black a day as this:
+O woful day, O woful day!
+
+PARIS:
+Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!
+Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,
+By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!
+O love! O life! not life, but love in death!
+
+CAPULET:
+Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!
+Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now
+To murder, murder our solemnity?
+O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!
+Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;
+And with my child my joys are buried.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not
+In these confusions. Heaven and yourself
+Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,
+And all the better is it for the maid:
+Your part in her you could not keep from death,
+But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.
+The most you sought was her promotion;
+For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced:
+And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced
+Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?
+O, in this love, you love your child so ill,
+That you run mad, seeing that she is well:
+She's not well married that lives married long;
+But she's best married that dies married young.
+Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
+On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,
+In all her best array bear her to church:
+For though fond nature bids us an lament,
+Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.
+
+CAPULET:
+All things that we ordained festival,
+Turn from their office to black funeral;
+Our instruments to melancholy bells,
+Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,
+Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,
+Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
+And all things change them to the contrary.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;
+And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare
+To follow this fair corse unto her grave:
+The heavens do lour upon you for some ill;
+Move them no more by crossing their high will.
+
+First Musician:
+Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.
+
+Nurse:
+Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up;
+For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.
+
+First Musician:
+Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.
+
+PETER:
+Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's
+ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.'
+
+First Musician:
+Why 'Heart's ease?'
+
+PETER:
+O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My
+heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump,
+to comfort me.
+
+First Musician:
+Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now.
+
+PETER:
+You will not, then?
+
+First Musician:
+No.
+
+PETER:
+I will then give it you soundly.
+
+First Musician:
+What will you give us?
+
+PETER:
+No money, on my faith, but the gleek;
+I will give you the minstrel.
+
+First Musician:
+Then I will give you the serving-creature.
+
+PETER:
+Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on
+your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you,
+I'll fa you; do you note me?
+
+First Musician:
+An you re us and fa us, you note us.
+
+Second Musician:
+Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.
+
+PETER:
+Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you
+with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer
+me like men:
+'When griping grief the heart doth wound,
+And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
+Then music with her silver sound'--
+why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver
+sound'? What say you, Simon Catling?
+
+Musician:
+Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
+
+PETER:
+Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
+
+Second Musician:
+I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver.
+
+PETER:
+Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?
+
+Third Musician:
+Faith, I know not what to say.
+
+PETER:
+O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say
+for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,'
+because musicians have no gold for sounding:
+'Then music with her silver sound
+With speedy help doth lend redress.'
+
+First Musician:
+What a pestilent knave is this same!
+
+Second Musician:
+Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the
+mourners, and stay dinner.
+
+ROMEO:
+If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,
+My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:
+My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;
+And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit
+Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
+I dreamt my lady came and found me dead--
+Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave
+to think!--
+And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,
+That I revived, and was an emperor.
+Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,
+When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!
+News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar!
+Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?
+How doth my lady? Is my father well?
+How fares my Juliet? that I ask again;
+For nothing can be ill, if she be well.
+
+BALTHASAR:
+Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:
+Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,
+And her immortal part with angels lives.
+I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,
+And presently took post to tell it you:
+O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,
+Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
+
+ROMEO:
+Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!
+Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,
+And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.
+
+BALTHASAR:
+I do beseech you, sir, have patience:
+Your looks are pale and wild, and do import
+Some misadventure.
+
+ROMEO:
+Tush, thou art deceived:
+Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
+Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?
+
+BALTHASAR:
+No, my good lord.
+
+ROMEO:
+No matter: get thee gone,
+And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.
+Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.
+Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift
+To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
+I do remember an apothecary,--
+And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted
+In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
+Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
+Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:
+And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
+An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
+Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
+A beggarly account of empty boxes,
+Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,
+Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,
+Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.
+Noting this penury, to myself I said
+'An if a man did need a poison now,
+Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
+Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.'
+O, this same thought did but forerun my need;
+And this same needy man must sell it me.
+As I remember, this should be the house.
+Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
+What, ho! apothecary!
+
+Apothecary:
+Who calls so loud?
+
+ROMEO:
+Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor:
+Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
+A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
+As will disperse itself through all the veins
+That the life-weary taker may fall dead
+And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
+As violently as hasty powder fired
+Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
+
+Apothecary:
+Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law
+Is death to any he that utters them.
+
+ROMEO:
+Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,
+And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,
+Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,
+Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;
+The world is not thy friend nor the world's law;
+The world affords no law to make thee rich;
+Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
+
+Apothecary:
+My poverty, but not my will, consents.
+
+ROMEO:
+I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.
+
+Apothecary:
+Put this in any liquid thing you will,
+And drink it off; and, if you had the strength
+Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.
+
+ROMEO:
+There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
+Doing more murders in this loathsome world,
+Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
+I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.
+Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.
+Come, cordial and not poison, go with me
+To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.
+
+FRIAR JOHN:
+Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+This same should be the voice of Friar John.
+Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo?
+Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.
+
+FRIAR JOHN:
+Going to find a bare-foot brother out
+One of our order, to associate me,
+Here in this city visiting the sick,
+And finding him, the searchers of the town,
+Suspecting that we both were in a house
+Where the infectious pestilence did reign,
+Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;
+So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo?
+
+FRIAR JOHN:
+I could not send it,--here it is again,--
+Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,
+So fearful were they of infection.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,
+The letter was not nice but full of charge
+Of dear import, and the neglecting it
+May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;
+Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight
+Unto my cell.
+
+FRIAR JOHN:
+Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Now must I to the monument alone;
+Within three hours will fair Juliet wake:
+She will beshrew me much that Romeo
+Hath had no notice of these accidents;
+But I will write again to Mantua,
+And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;
+Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb!
+
+PARIS:
+Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:
+Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.
+Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,
+Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;
+So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,
+Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,
+But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,
+As signal that thou hear'st something approach.
+Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.
+
+PAGE:
+
+PARIS:
+Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,--
+O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;--
+Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
+Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:
+The obsequies that I for thee will keep
+Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.
+The boy gives warning something doth approach.
+What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,
+To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?
+What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.
+
+ROMEO:
+Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.
+Hold, take this letter; early in the morning
+See thou deliver it to my lord and father.
+Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee,
+Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,
+And do not interrupt me in my course.
+Why I descend into this bed of death,
+Is partly to behold my lady's face;
+But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger
+A precious ring, a ring that I must use
+In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:
+But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry
+In what I further shall intend to do,
+By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint
+And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:
+The time and my intents are savage-wild,
+More fierce and more inexorable far
+Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.
+
+BALTHASAR:
+I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.
+
+ROMEO:
+So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that:
+Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.
+
+BALTHASAR:
+
+ROMEO:
+Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,
+Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,
+Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,
+And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!
+
+PARIS:
+This is that banish'd haughty Montague,
+That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief,
+It is supposed, the fair creature died;
+And here is come to do some villanous shame
+To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.
+Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague!
+Can vengeance be pursued further than death?
+Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:
+Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.
+
+ROMEO:
+I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.
+Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;
+Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone;
+Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,
+Put not another sin upon my head,
+By urging me to fury: O, be gone!
+By heaven, I love thee better than myself;
+For I come hither arm'd against myself:
+Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,
+A madman's mercy bade thee run away.
+
+PARIS:
+I do defy thy conjurations,
+And apprehend thee for a felon here.
+
+ROMEO:
+Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!
+
+PAGE:
+O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.
+
+PARIS:
+O, I am slain!
+If thou be merciful,
+Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.
+
+ROMEO:
+In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.
+Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris!
+What said my man, when my betossed soul
+Did not attend him as we rode? I think
+He told me Paris should have married Juliet:
+Said he not so? or did I dream it so?
+Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,
+To think it was so? O, give me thy hand,
+One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!
+I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave;
+A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,
+For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
+This vault a feasting presence full of light.
+Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.
+How oft when men are at the point of death
+Have they been merry! which their keepers call
+A lightning before death: O, how may I
+Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!
+Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
+Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
+Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
+Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
+And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
+Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?
+O, what more favour can I do to thee,
+Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain
+To sunder his that was thine enemy?
+Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet,
+Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe
+That unsubstantial death is amorous,
+And that the lean abhorred monster keeps
+Thee here in dark to be his paramour?
+For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;
+And never from this palace of dim night
+Depart again: here, here will I remain
+With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here
+Will I set up my everlasting rest,
+And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
+From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!
+Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you
+The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
+A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
+Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!
+Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
+The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
+Here's to my love!
+O true apothecary!
+Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night
+Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?
+
+BALTHASAR:
+Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
+What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light
+To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,
+It burneth in the Capel's monument.
+
+BALTHASAR:
+It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
+One that you love.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Who is it?
+
+BALTHASAR:
+Romeo.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+How long hath he been there?
+
+BALTHASAR:
+Full half an hour.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Go with me to the vault.
+
+BALTHASAR:
+I dare not, sir
+My master knows not but I am gone hence;
+And fearfully did menace me with death,
+If I did stay to look on his intents.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me:
+O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.
+
+BALTHASAR:
+As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,
+I dreamt my master and another fought,
+And that my master slew him.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+Romeo!
+Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains
+The stony entrance of this sepulchre?
+What mean these masterless and gory swords
+To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?
+Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too?
+And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour
+Is guilty of this lamentable chance!
+The lady stirs.
+
+JULIET:
+O comfortable friar! where is my lord?
+I do remember well where I should be,
+And there I am. Where is my Romeo?
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest
+Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep:
+A greater power than we can contradict
+Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.
+Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;
+And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee
+Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:
+Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;
+Come, go, good Juliet,
+I dare no longer stay.
+
+JULIET:
+Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.
+What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?
+Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:
+O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
+To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;
+Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
+To make die with a restorative.
+Thy lips are warm.
+
+First Watchman:
+
+JULIET:
+Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!
+This is thy sheath;
+there rust, and let me die.
+
+PAGE:
+This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.
+
+First Watchman:
+The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard:
+Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.
+Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain,
+And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,
+Who here hath lain these two days buried.
+Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets:
+Raise up the Montagues: some others search:
+We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;
+But the true ground of all these piteous woes
+We cannot without circumstance descry.
+
+Second Watchman:
+Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.
+
+First Watchman:
+Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.
+
+Third Watchman:
+Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps:
+We took this mattock and this spade from him,
+As he was coming from this churchyard side.
+
+First Watchman:
+A great suspicion: stay the friar too.
+
+PRINCE:
+What misadventure is so early up,
+That calls our person from our morning's rest?
+
+CAPULET:
+What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+The people in the street cry Romeo,
+Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run,
+With open outcry toward our monument.
+
+PRINCE:
+What fear is this which startles in our ears?
+
+First Watchman:
+Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain;
+And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,
+Warm and new kill'd.
+
+PRINCE:
+Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.
+
+First Watchman:
+Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man;
+With instruments upon them, fit to open
+These dead men's tombs.
+
+CAPULET:
+O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!
+This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house
+Is empty on the back of Montague,--
+And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!
+
+LADY CAPULET:
+O me! this sight of death is as a bell,
+That warns my old age to a sepulchre.
+
+PRINCE:
+Come, Montague; for thou art early up,
+To see thy son and heir more early down.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;
+Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath:
+What further woe conspires against mine age?
+
+PRINCE:
+Look, and thou shalt see.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+O thou untaught! what manners is in this?
+To press before thy father to a grave?
+
+PRINCE:
+Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,
+Till we can clear these ambiguities,
+And know their spring, their head, their
+true descent;
+And then will I be general of your woes,
+And lead you even to death: meantime forbear,
+And let mischance be slave to patience.
+Bring forth the parties of suspicion.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+I am the greatest, able to do least,
+Yet most suspected, as the time and place
+Doth make against me of this direful murder;
+And here I stand, both to impeach and purge
+Myself condemned and myself excused.
+
+PRINCE:
+Then say at once what thou dost know in this.
+
+FRIAR LAURENCE:
+I will be brief, for my short date of breath
+Is not so long as is a tedious tale.
+Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;
+And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:
+I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day
+Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death
+Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city,
+For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.
+You, to remove that siege of grief from her,
+Betroth'd and would have married her perforce
+To County Paris: then comes she to me,
+And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean
+To rid her from this second marriage,
+Or in my cell there would she kill herself.
+Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,
+A sleeping potion; which so took effect
+As I intended, for it wrought on her
+The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,
+That he should hither come as this dire night,
+To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,
+Being the time the potion's force should cease.
+But he which bore my letter, Friar John,
+Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight
+Return'd my letter back. Then all alone
+At the prefixed hour of her waking,
+Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;
+Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,
+Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:
+But when I came, some minute ere the time
+Of her awaking, here untimely lay
+The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.
+She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,
+And bear this work of heaven with patience:
+But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;
+And she, too desperate, would not go with me,
+But, as it seems, did violence on herself.
+All this I know; and to the marriage
+Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this
+Miscarried by my fault, let my old life
+Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,
+Unto the rigour of severest law.
+
+PRINCE:
+We still have known thee for a holy man.
+Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this?
+
+BALTHASAR:
+I brought my master news of Juliet's death;
+And then in post he came from Mantua
+To this same place, to this same monument.
+This letter he early bid me give his father,
+And threatened me with death, going in the vault,
+I departed not and left him there.
+
+PRINCE:
+Give me the letter; I will look on it.
+Where is the county's page, that raised the watch?
+Sirrah, what made your master in this place?
+
+PAGE:
+He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave;
+And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:
+Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;
+And by and by my master drew on him;
+And then I ran away to call the watch.
+
+PRINCE:
+This letter doth make good the friar's words,
+Their course of love, the tidings of her death:
+And here he writes that he did buy a poison
+Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal
+Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.
+Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!
+See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,
+That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.
+And I for winking at your discords too
+Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.
+
+CAPULET:
+O brother Montague, give me thy hand:
+This is my daughter's jointure, for no more
+Can I demand.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+But I can give thee more:
+For I will raise her statue in pure gold;
+That while Verona by that name is known,
+There shall no figure at such rate be set
+As that of true and faithful Juliet.
+
+CAPULET:
+As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie;
+Poor sacrifices of our enmity!
+
+PRINCE:
+A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
+The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
+Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
+Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
+For never was a story of more woe
+Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
+
+WARWICK:
+I wonder how the king escaped our hands.
+
+YORK:
+While we pursued the horsemen of the north,
+He slily stole away and left his men:
+Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
+Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
+Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself,
+Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
+Charged our main battle's front, and breaking in
+Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
+
+EDWARD:
+Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham,
+Is either slain or wounded dangerously;
+I cleft his beaver with a downright blow:
+That this is true, father, behold his blood.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood,
+Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.
+
+RICHARD:
+Speak thou for me and tell them what I did.
+
+YORK:
+Richard hath best deserved of all my sons.
+But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?
+
+NORFOLK:
+Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt!
+
+RICHARD:
+Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head.
+
+WARWICK:
+And so do I. Victorious Prince of York,
+Before I see thee seated in that throne
+Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,
+I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.
+This is the palace of the fearful king,
+And this the regal seat: possess it, York;
+For this is thine and not King Henry's heirs'
+
+YORK:
+Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will;
+For hither we have broken in by force.
+
+NORFOLK:
+We'll all assist you; he that flies shall die.
+
+YORK:
+Thanks, gentle Norfolk: stay by me, my lords;
+And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night.
+
+WARWICK:
+And when the king comes, offer no violence,
+Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.
+
+YORK:
+The queen this day here holds her parliament,
+But little thinks we shall be of her council:
+By words or blows here let us win our right.
+
+RICHARD:
+Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this house.
+
+WARWICK:
+The bloody parliament shall this be call'd,
+Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king,
+And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice
+Hath made us by-words to our enemies.
+
+YORK:
+Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute;
+I mean to take possession of my right.
+
+WARWICK:
+Neither the king, nor he that loves him best,
+The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
+Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.
+I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares:
+Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits,
+Even in the chair of state: belike he means,
+Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer,
+To aspire unto the crown and reign as king.
+Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father.
+And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vow'd revenge
+On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+If I be not, heavens be revenged on me!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.
+
+WESTMORELAND:
+What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck him down:
+My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Patience is for poltroons, such as he:
+He durst not sit there, had your father lived.
+My gracious lord, here in the parliament
+Let us assail the family of York.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Well hast thou spoken, cousin: be it so.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Ah, know you not the city favours them,
+And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?
+
+EXETER:
+But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly fly.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart,
+To make a shambles of the parliament-house!
+Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats
+Shall be the war that Henry means to use.
+Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne,
+and kneel for grace and mercy at my feet;
+I am thy sovereign.
+
+YORK:
+I am thine.
+
+EXETER:
+For shame, come down: he made thee Duke of York.
+
+YORK:
+'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was.
+
+EXETER:
+Thy father was a traitor to the crown.
+
+WARWICK:
+Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown
+In following this usurping Henry.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Whom should he follow but his natural king?
+
+WARWICK:
+True, Clifford; and that's Richard Duke of York.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne?
+
+YORK:
+It must and shall be so: content thyself.
+
+WARWICK:
+Be Duke of Lancaster; let him be king.
+
+WESTMORELAND:
+He is both king and Duke of Lancaster;
+And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.
+
+WARWICK:
+And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget
+That we are those which chased you from the field
+And slew your fathers, and with colours spread
+March'd through the city to the palace gates.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief;
+And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
+
+WESTMORELAND:
+Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons,
+Thy kinsman and thy friends, I'll have more lives
+Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words,
+I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger
+As shall revenge his death before I stir.
+
+WARWICK:
+Poor Clifford! how I scorn his worthless threats!
+
+YORK:
+Will you we show our title to the crown?
+If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown?
+Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York;
+Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March:
+I am the son of Henry the Fifth,
+Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop
+And seized upon their towns and provinces.
+
+WARWICK:
+Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+The lord protector lost it, and not I:
+When I was crown'd I was but nine months old.
+
+RICHARD:
+You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose.
+Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head.
+
+EDWARD:
+Sweet father, do so; set it on your head.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Good brother, as thou lovest and honourest arms,
+Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus.
+
+RICHARD:
+Sound drums and trumpets, and the king will fly.
+
+YORK:
+Sons, peace!
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Peace, thou! and give King Henry leave to speak.
+
+WARWICK:
+Plantagenet shall speak first: hear him, lords;
+And be you silent and attentive too,
+For he that interrupts him shall not live.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne,
+Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?
+No: first shall war unpeople this my realm;
+Ay, and their colours, often borne in France,
+And now in England to our heart's great sorrow,
+Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords?
+My title's good, and better far than his.
+
+WARWICK:
+Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.
+
+YORK:
+'Twas by rebellion against his king.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+
+YORK:
+What then?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+An if he may, then am I lawful king;
+For Richard, in the view of many lords,
+Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth,
+Whose heir my father was, and I am his.
+
+YORK:
+He rose against him, being his sovereign,
+And made him to resign his crown perforce.
+
+WARWICK:
+Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd,
+Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown?
+
+EXETER:
+No; for he could not so resign his crown
+But that the next heir should succeed and reign.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?
+
+EXETER:
+His is the right, and therefore pardon me.
+
+YORK:
+Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?
+
+EXETER:
+My conscience tells me he is lawful king.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st,
+Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.
+
+WARWICK:
+Deposed he shall be, in despite of all.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Thou art deceived: 'tis not thy southern power,
+Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,
+Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,
+Can set the duke up in despite of me.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+King Henry, be thy title right or wrong,
+Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence:
+May that ground gape and swallow me alive,
+Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father!
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart!
+
+YORK:
+Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.
+What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
+
+WARWICK:
+Do right unto this princely Duke of York,
+Or I will fill the house with armed men,
+And over the chair of state, where now he sits,
+Write up his title with usurping blood.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+My Lord of Warwick, hear me but one word:
+Let me for this my life-time reign as king.
+
+YORK:
+Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs,
+And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+I am content: Richard Plantagenet,
+Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+What wrong is this unto the prince your son!
+
+WARWICK:
+What good is this to England and himself!
+
+WESTMORELAND:
+Base, fearful and despairing Henry!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+How hast thou injured both thyself and us!
+
+WESTMORELAND:
+I cannot stay to hear these articles.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Nor I.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these news.
+
+WESTMORELAND:
+Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king,
+In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Be thou a prey unto the house of York,
+And die in bands for this unmanly deed!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome,
+Or live in peace abandon'd and despised!
+
+WARWICK:
+Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not.
+
+EXETER:
+They seek revenge and therefore will not yield.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Ah, Exeter!
+
+WARWICK:
+Why should you sigh, my lord?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son,
+Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
+But be it as it may: I here entail
+The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever;
+Conditionally, that here thou take an oath
+To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live,
+To honour me as thy king and sovereign,
+And neither by treason nor hostility
+To seek to put me down and reign thyself.
+
+YORK:
+This oath I willingly take and will perform.
+
+WARWICK:
+Long live King Henry! Plantagenet embrace him.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+And long live thou and these thy forward sons!
+
+YORK:
+Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.
+
+EXETER:
+Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes!
+
+YORK:
+Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my castle.
+
+WARWICK:
+And I'll keep London with my soldiers.
+
+NORFOLK:
+And I to Norfolk with my followers.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+And I unto the sea from whence I came.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+And I, with grief and sorrow, to the court.
+
+EXETER:
+Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger:
+I'll steal away.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Exeter, so will I.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Who can be patient in such extremes?
+Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid
+And never seen thee, never borne thee son,
+Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father
+Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus?
+Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I,
+Or felt that pain which I did for him once,
+Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood,
+Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there,
+Rather than have that savage duke thine heir
+And disinherited thine only son.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Father, you cannot disinherit me:
+If you be king, why should not I succeed?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son:
+The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced?
+I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch!
+Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me;
+And given unto the house of York such head
+As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.
+To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,
+What is it, but to make thy sepulchre
+And creep into it far before thy time?
+Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais;
+Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas;
+The duke is made protector of the realm;
+And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds
+The trembling lamb environed with wolves.
+Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
+The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes
+Before I would have granted to that act.
+But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour:
+And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
+Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
+Until that act of parliament be repeal'd
+Whereby my son is disinherited.
+The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours
+Will follow mine, if once they see them spread;
+And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace
+And utter ruin of the house of York.
+Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let's away;
+Our army is ready; come, we'll after them.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+When I return with victory from the field
+I'll see your grace: till then I'll follow her.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Come, son, away; we may not linger thus.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Poor queen! how love to me and to her son
+Hath made her break out into terms of rage!
+Revenged may she be on that hateful duke,
+Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
+Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle
+Tire on the flesh of me and of my son!
+The loss of those three lords torments my heart:
+I'll write unto them and entreat them fair.
+Come, cousin you shall be the messenger.
+
+EXETER:
+And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+RICHARD:
+Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.
+
+EDWARD:
+No, I can better play the orator.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+But I have reasons strong and forcible.
+
+YORK:
+Why, how now, sons and brother! at a strife?
+What is your quarrel? how began it first?
+
+EDWARD:
+No quarrel, but a slight contention.
+
+YORK:
+About what?
+
+RICHARD:
+About that which concerns your grace and us;
+The crown of England, father, which is yours.
+
+YORK:
+Mine boy? not till King Henry be dead.
+
+RICHARD:
+Your right depends not on his life or death.
+
+EDWARD:
+Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now:
+By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe,
+It will outrun you, father, in the end.
+
+YORK:
+I took an oath that he should quietly reign.
+
+EDWARD:
+But for a kingdom any oath may be broken:
+I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
+
+RICHARD:
+No; God forbid your grace should be forsworn.
+
+YORK:
+I shall be, if I claim by open war.
+
+RICHARD:
+I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak.
+
+YORK:
+Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.
+
+RICHARD:
+An oath is of no moment, being not took
+Before a true and lawful magistrate,
+That hath authority over him that swears:
+Henry had none, but did usurp the place;
+Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,
+Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
+Therefore, to arms! And, father, do but think
+How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
+Within whose circuit is Elysium
+And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
+Why do we finger thus? I cannot rest
+Until the white rose that I wear be dyed
+Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.
+
+YORK:
+Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.
+Brother, thou shalt to London presently,
+And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.
+Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk,
+And tell him privily of our intent.
+You Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham,
+With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise:
+In them I trust; for they are soldiers,
+Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
+While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more,
+But that I seek occasion how to rise,
+And yet the king not privy to my drift,
+Nor any of the house of Lancaster?
+But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post?
+
+Messenger:
+The queen with all the northern earls and lords
+Intend here to besiege you in your castle:
+She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
+And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
+
+YORK:
+Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou that we fear them?
+Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;
+My brother Montague shall post to London:
+Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
+Whom we have left protectors of the king,
+With powerful policy strengthen themselves,
+And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not:
+And thus most humbly I do take my leave.
+Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,
+You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;
+The army of the queen mean to besiege us.
+
+JOHN MORTIMER:
+She shall not need; we'll meet her in the field.
+
+YORK:
+What, with five thousand men?
+
+RICHARD:
+Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need:
+A woman's general; what should we fear?
+
+EDWARD:
+I hear their drums: let's set our men in order,
+And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
+
+YORK:
+Five men to twenty! though the odds be great,
+I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
+Many a battle have I won in France,
+When as the enemy hath been ten to one:
+Why should I not now have the like success?
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+RUTLAND:
+Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands?
+Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.
+As for the brat of this accursed duke,
+Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
+
+Tutor:
+And I, my lord, will bear him company.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Soldiers, away with him!
+
+Tutor:
+Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
+Lest thou be hated both of God and man!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+How now! is he dead already? or is it fear
+That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them.
+
+RUTLAND:
+So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
+That trembles under his devouring paws;
+And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey,
+And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.
+Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
+And not with such a cruel threatening look.
+Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
+I am too mean a subject for thy wrath:
+Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood
+Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter.
+
+RUTLAND:
+Then let my father's blood open it again:
+He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine
+Were not revenge sufficient for me;
+No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves
+And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
+It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
+The sight of any of the house of York
+Is as a fury to torment my soul;
+And till I root out their accursed line
+And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
+Therefore--
+
+RUTLAND:
+O, let me pray before I take my death!
+To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Such pity as my rapier's point affords.
+
+RUTLAND:
+I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me?
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Thy father hath.
+
+RUTLAND:
+But 'twas ere I was born.
+Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me,
+Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
+He be as miserably slain as I.
+Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
+And when I give occasion of offence,
+Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+No cause!
+Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.
+
+RUTLAND:
+Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet!
+And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade
+Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,
+Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+YORK:
+The army of the queen hath got the field:
+My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
+And all my followers to the eager foe
+Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind
+Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves.
+My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them:
+But this I know, they have demean'd themselves
+Like men born to renown by life or death.
+Three times did Richard make a lane to me.
+And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out!'
+And full as oft came Edward to my side,
+With purple falchion, painted to the hilt
+In blood of those that had encounter'd him:
+And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
+Richard cried 'Charge! and give no foot of ground!'
+And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb!
+A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!'
+With this, we charged again: but, out, alas!
+We bodged again; as I have seen a swan
+With bootless labour swim against the tide
+And spend her strength with over-matching waves.
+Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue;
+And I am faint and cannot fly their fury:
+And were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
+The sands are number'd that make up my life;
+Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
+Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
+I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:
+I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm,
+With downright payment, show'd unto my father.
+Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car,
+And made an evening at the noontide prick.
+
+YORK:
+My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth
+A bird that will revenge upon you all:
+And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,
+Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.
+Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear?
+
+CLIFFORD:
+So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
+So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;
+So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
+Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.
+
+YORK:
+O Clifford, but bethink thee once again,
+And in thy thought o'er-run my former time;
+And, if though canst for blushing, view this face,
+And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice
+Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+I will not bandy with thee word for word,
+But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes
+I would prolong awhile the traitor's life.
+Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much
+To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart:
+What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,
+For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
+When he might spurn him with his foot away?
+It is war's prize to take all vantages;
+And ten to one is no impeach of valour.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+So doth the cony struggle in the net.
+
+YORK:
+So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty;
+So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+What would your grace have done unto him now?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
+Come, make him stand upon this molehill here,
+That raught at mountains with outstretched arms,
+Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
+What! was it you that would be England's king?
+Was't you that revell'd in our parliament,
+And made a preachment of your high descent?
+Where are your mess of sons to back you now?
+The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?
+And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy,
+Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice
+Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?
+Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
+Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood
+That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point,
+Made issue from the bosom of the boy;
+And if thine eyes can water for his death,
+I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
+Alas poor York! but that I hate thee deadly,
+I should lament thy miserable state.
+I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York.
+What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails
+That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?
+Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad;
+And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
+Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
+Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport:
+York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.
+A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him:
+Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.
+Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!
+Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair,
+And this is he was his adopted heir.
+But how is it that great Plantagenet
+Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath?
+As I bethink me, you should not be king
+Till our King Henry had shook hands with death.
+And will you pale your head in Henry's glory,
+And rob his temples of the diadem,
+Now in his life, against your holy oath?
+O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable!
+Off with the crown, and with the crown his head;
+And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+That is my office, for my father's sake.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Nay, stay; lets hear the orisons he makes.
+
+YORK:
+She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France,
+Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth!
+How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex
+To triumph, like an Amazonian trull,
+Upon their woes whom fortune captivates!
+But that thy face is, vizard-like, unchanging,
+Made impudent with use of evil deeds,
+I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush.
+To tell thee whence thou camest, of whom derived,
+Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless.
+Thy father bears the type of King of Naples,
+Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem,
+Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
+Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult?
+It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen,
+Unless the adage must be verified,
+That beggars mounted run their horse to death.
+'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud;
+But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small:
+'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired;
+The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at:
+'Tis government that makes them seem divine;
+The want thereof makes thee abominable:
+Thou art as opposite to every good
+As the Antipodes are unto us,
+Or as the south to the septentrion.
+O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide!
+How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child,
+To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
+And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
+Women are soft, mild, pitiful and flexible;
+Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
+Bids't thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish:
+Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will:
+For raging wind blows up incessant showers,
+And when the rage allays, the rain begins.
+These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies:
+And every drop cries vengeance for his death,
+'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false
+Frenchwoman.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Beshrew me, but his passion moves me so
+That hardly can I cheque my eyes from tears.
+
+YORK:
+That face of his the hungry cannibals
+Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood:
+But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,
+O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania.
+See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears:
+This cloth thou dip'dst in blood of my sweet boy,
+And I with tears do wash the blood away.
+Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this:
+And if thou tell'st the heavy story right,
+Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears;
+Yea even my foes will shed fast-falling tears,
+And say 'Alas, it was a piteous deed!'
+There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse;
+And in thy need such comfort come to thee
+As now I reap at thy too cruel hand!
+Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world:
+My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads!
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin,
+I should not for my life but weep with him.
+To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland?
+Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
+And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+And here's to right our gentle-hearted king.
+
+YORK:
+Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious God!
+My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Off with his head, and set it on York gates;
+So York may overlook the town of York.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+EDWARD:
+I wonder how our princely father 'scaped,
+Or whether he be 'scaped away or no
+From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit:
+Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news;
+Had he been slain, we should have heard the news;
+Or had he 'scaped, methinks we should have heard
+The happy tidings of his good escape.
+How fares my brother? why is he so sad?
+
+RICHARD:
+I cannot joy, until I be resolved
+Where our right valiant father is become.
+I saw him in the battle range about;
+And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth.
+Methought he bore him in the thickest troop
+As doth a lion in a herd of neat;
+Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs,
+Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry,
+The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him.
+So fared our father with his enemies;
+So fled his enemies my warlike father:
+Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son.
+See how the morning opes her golden gates,
+And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!
+How well resembles it the prime of youth,
+Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love!
+
+EDWARD:
+Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?
+
+RICHARD:
+Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun;
+Not separated with the racking clouds,
+But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
+See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
+As if they vow'd some league inviolable:
+Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
+In this the heaven figures some event.
+
+EDWARD:
+'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of.
+I think it cites us, brother, to the field,
+That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
+Each one already blazing by our meeds,
+Should notwithstanding join our lights together
+And over-shine the earth as this the world.
+Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
+Upon my target three fair-shining suns.
+
+RICHARD:
+Nay, bear three daughters: by your leave I speak it,
+You love the breeder better than the male.
+But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell
+Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
+
+Messenger:
+Ah, one that was a woful looker-on
+When as the noble Duke of York was slain,
+Your princely father and my loving lord!
+
+EDWARD:
+O, speak no more, for I have heard too much.
+
+RICHARD:
+Say how he died, for I will hear it all.
+
+Messenger:
+Environed he was with many foes,
+And stood against them, as the hope of Troy
+Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy.
+But Hercules himself must yield to odds;
+And many strokes, though with a little axe,
+Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
+By many hands your father was subdued;
+But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm
+Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen,
+Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite,
+Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept,
+The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks
+A napkin steeped in the harmless blood
+Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain:
+And after many scorns, many foul taunts,
+They took his head, and on the gates of York
+They set the same; and there it doth remain,
+The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd.
+
+EDWARD:
+Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon,
+Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay.
+O Clifford, boisterous Clifford! thou hast slain
+The flower of Europe for his chivalry;
+And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him,
+For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee.
+Now my soul's palace is become a prison:
+Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body
+Might in the ground be closed up in rest!
+For never henceforth shall I joy again,
+Never, O never shall I see more joy!
+
+RICHARD:
+I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture
+Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart:
+Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen;
+For selfsame wind that I should speak withal
+Is kindling coals that fires all my breast,
+And burns me up with flames that tears would quench.
+To weep is to make less the depth of grief:
+Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me
+Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death,
+Or die renowned by attempting it.
+
+EDWARD:
+His name that valiant duke hath left with thee;
+His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
+
+RICHARD:
+Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird,
+Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun:
+For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say;
+Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.
+
+WARWICK:
+How now, fair lords! What fare? what news abroad?
+
+RICHARD:
+Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount
+Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance
+Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,
+The words would add more anguish than the wounds.
+O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain!
+
+EDWARD:
+O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet,
+Which held three dearly as his soul's redemption,
+Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.
+
+WARWICK:
+Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears;
+And now, to add more measure to your woes,
+I come to tell you things sith then befall'n.
+After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
+Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp,
+Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,
+Were brought me of your loss and his depart.
+I, then in London keeper of the king,
+Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends,
+And very well appointed, as I thought,
+March'd toward Saint Alban's to intercept the queen,
+Bearing the king in my behalf along;
+For by my scouts I was advertised
+That she was coming with a full intent
+To dash our late decree in parliament
+Touching King Henry's oath and your succession.
+Short tale to make, we at Saint Alban's met
+Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought:
+But whether 'twas the coldness of the king,
+Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen,
+That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen;
+Or whether 'twas report of her success;
+Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour,
+Who thunders to his captives blood and death,
+I cannot judge: but to conclude with truth,
+Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
+Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight,
+Or like an idle thresher with a flail,
+Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
+I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,
+With promise of high pay and great rewards:
+But all in vain; they had no heart to fight,
+And we in them no hope to win the day;
+So that we fled; the king unto the queen;
+Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself,
+In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you:
+For in the marches here we heard you were,
+Making another head to fight again.
+
+EDWARD:
+Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick?
+And when came George from Burgundy to England?
+
+WARWICK:
+Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers;
+And for your brother, he was lately sent
+From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy,
+With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
+
+RICHARD:
+'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled:
+Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
+But ne'er till now his scandal of retire.
+
+WARWICK:
+Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear;
+For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine
+Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head,
+And wring the awful sceptre from his fist,
+Were he as famous and as bold in war
+As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.
+
+RICHARD:
+I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not:
+'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak.
+But in this troublous time what's to be done?
+Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
+And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
+Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads?
+Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
+Tell our devotion with revengeful arms?
+If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords.
+
+WARWICK:
+Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out;
+And therefore comes my brother Montague.
+Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen,
+With Clifford and the haught Northumberland,
+And of their feather many more proud birds,
+Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax.
+He swore consent to your succession,
+His oath enrolled in the parliament;
+And now to London all the crew are gone,
+To frustrate both his oath and what beside
+May make against the house of Lancaster.
+Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong:
+Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself,
+With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March,
+Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure,
+Will but amount to five and twenty thousand,
+Why, Via! to London will we march amain,
+And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
+And once again cry 'Charge upon our foes!'
+But never once again turn back and fly.
+
+RICHARD:
+Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak:
+Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day,
+That cries 'Retire,' if Warwick bid him stay.
+
+EDWARD:
+Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean;
+And when thou fail'st--as God forbid the hour!--
+Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend!
+
+WARWICK:
+No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York:
+The next degree is England's royal throne;
+For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
+In every borough as we pass along;
+And he that throws not up his cap for joy
+Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
+King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague,
+Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown,
+But sound the trumpets, and about our task.
+
+RICHARD:
+Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel,
+As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,
+I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.
+
+EDWARD:
+Then strike up drums: God and Saint George for us!
+
+WARWICK:
+How now! what news?
+
+Messenger:
+The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me,
+The queen is coming with a puissant host;
+And craves your company for speedy counsel.
+
+WARWICK:
+Why then it sorts, brave warriors, let's away.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York.
+Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy
+That sought to be encompass'd with your crown:
+Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck:
+To see this sight, it irks my very soul.
+Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault,
+Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+My gracious liege, this too much lenity
+And harmful pity must be laid aside.
+To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
+Not to the beast that would usurp their den.
+Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?
+Not his that spoils her young before her face.
+Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting?
+Not he that sets his foot upon her back.
+The smallest worm will turn being trodden on,
+And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
+Ambitious York doth level at thy crown,
+Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows:
+He, but a duke, would have his son a king,
+And raise his issue, like a loving sire;
+Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son,
+Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
+Which argued thee a most unloving father.
+Unreasonable creatures feed their young;
+And though man's face be fearful to their eyes,
+Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
+Who hath not seen them, even with those wings
+Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,
+Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest,
+Offer their own lives in their young's defence?
+For shame, my liege, make them your precedent!
+Were it not pity that this goodly boy
+Should lose his birthright by his father's fault,
+And long hereafter say unto his child,
+'What my great-grandfather and his grandsire got
+My careless father fondly gave away'?
+Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy;
+And let his manly face, which promiseth
+Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart
+To hold thine own and leave thine own with him.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator,
+Inferring arguments of mighty force.
+But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear
+That things ill-got had ever bad success?
+And happy always was it for that son
+Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?
+I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind;
+And would my father had left me no more!
+For all the rest is held at such a rate
+As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep
+Than in possession and jot of pleasure.
+Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did know
+How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+My lord, cheer up your spirits: our foes are nigh,
+And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
+You promised knighthood to our forward son:
+Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently.
+Edward, kneel down.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight;
+And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right.
+
+PRINCE:
+My gracious father, by your kingly leave,
+I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,
+And in that quarrel use it to the death.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.
+
+Messenger:
+Royal commanders, be in readiness:
+For with a band of thirty thousand men
+Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York;
+And in the towns, as they do march along,
+Proclaims him king, and many fly to him:
+Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+I would your highness would depart the field:
+The queen hath best success when you are absent.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+Be it with resolution then to fight.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+My royal father, cheer these noble lords
+And hearten those that fight in your defence:
+Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 'Saint George!'
+
+EDWARD:
+Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace,
+And set thy diadem upon my head;
+Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!
+Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
+Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
+
+EDWARD:
+I am his king, and he should bow his knee;
+I was adopted heir by his consent:
+Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear,
+You, that are king, though he do wear the crown,
+Have caused him, by new act of parliament,
+To blot out me, and put his own son in.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+And reason too:
+Who should succeed the father but the son?
+
+RICHARD:
+Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee,
+Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
+
+RICHARD:
+'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not?
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
+
+RICHARD:
+For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight.
+
+WARWICK:
+What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick! dare you speak?
+When you and I met at Saint Alban's last,
+Your legs did better service than your hands.
+
+WARWICK:
+Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+You said so much before, and yet you fled.
+
+WARWICK:
+'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.
+
+NORTHUMBERLAND:
+No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.
+
+RICHARD:
+Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.
+Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain
+The execution of my big-swoln heart
+Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+I slew thy father, call'st thou him a child?
+
+RICHARD:
+Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward,
+As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;
+But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+I prithee, give no limits to my tongue:
+I am a king, and privileged to speak.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here
+Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still.
+
+RICHARD:
+Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword:
+By him that made us all, I am resolved
+that Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.
+
+EDWARD:
+Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no?
+A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day,
+That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.
+
+WARWICK:
+If thou deny, their blood upon thy head;
+For York in justice puts his armour on.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+If that be right which Warwick says is right,
+There is no wrong, but every thing is right.
+
+RICHARD:
+Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands;
+For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam;
+But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic,
+Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,
+As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.
+
+RICHARD:
+Iron of Naples hid with English gilt,
+Whose father bears the title of a king,--
+As if a channel should be call'd the sea,--
+Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
+To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?
+
+EDWARD:
+A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns,
+To make this shameless callet know herself.
+Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,
+Although thy husband may be Menelaus;
+And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd
+By that false woman, as this king by thee.
+His father revell'd in the heart of France,
+And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop;
+And had he match'd according to his state,
+He might have kept that glory to this day;
+But when he took a beggar to his bed,
+And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day,
+Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him,
+That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France,
+And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.
+For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride?
+Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept;
+And we, in pity of the gentle king,
+Had slipp'd our claim until another age.
+
+GEORGE:
+But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring,
+And that thy summer bred us no increase,
+We set the axe to thy usurping root;
+And though the edge hath something hit ourselves,
+Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
+We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down,
+Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.
+
+EDWARD:
+And, in this resolution, I defy thee;
+Not willing any longer conference,
+Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak.
+Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave!
+And either victory, or else a grave.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Stay, Edward.
+
+EDWARD:
+No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay:
+These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+WARWICK:
+Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,
+I lay me down a little while to breathe;
+For strokes received, and many blows repaid,
+Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength,
+And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile.
+
+EDWARD:
+Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death!
+For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded.
+
+WARWICK:
+How now, my lord! what hap? what hope of good?
+
+GEORGE:
+Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair;
+Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us:
+What counsel give you? whither shall we fly?
+
+EDWARD:
+Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings;
+And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit.
+
+RICHARD:
+Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?
+Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
+Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance;
+And in the very pangs of death he cried,
+Like to a dismal clangour heard from far,
+'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!'
+So, underneath the belly of their steeds,
+That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
+The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.
+
+WARWICK:
+Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:
+I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly.
+Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,
+Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage;
+And look upon, as if the tragedy
+Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
+Here on my knee I vow to God above,
+I'll never pause again, never stand still,
+Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine
+Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
+
+EDWARD:
+O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine;
+And in this vow do chain my soul to thine!
+And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
+I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
+Thou setter up and plucker down of kings,
+Beseeching thee, if with they will it stands
+That to my foes this body must be prey,
+Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,
+And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!
+Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
+Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth.
+
+RICHARD:
+Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick,
+Let me embrace thee in my weary arms:
+I, that did never weep, now melt with woe
+That winter should cut off our spring-time so.
+
+WARWICK:
+Away, away! Once more, sweet lords farewell.
+
+GEORGE:
+Yet let us all together to our troops,
+And give them leave to fly that will not stay;
+And call them pillars that will stand to us;
+And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards
+As victors wear at the Olympian games:
+This may plant courage in their quailing breasts;
+For yet is hope of life and victory.
+Forslow no longer, make we hence amain.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+RICHARD:
+Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone:
+Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York,
+And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge,
+Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone:
+This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York;
+And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland;
+And here's the heart that triumphs in their death
+And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother
+To execute the like upon thyself;
+And so, have at thee!
+
+RICHARD:
+Nay Warwick, single out some other chase;
+For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+This battle fares like to the morning's war,
+When dying clouds contend with growing light,
+What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
+Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
+Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea
+Forced by the tide to combat with the wind;
+Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
+Forced to retire by fury of the wind:
+Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind;
+Now one the better, then another best;
+Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
+Yet neither conqueror nor conquered:
+So is the equal of this fell war.
+Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
+To whom God will, there be the victory!
+For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
+Have chid me from the battle; swearing both
+They prosper best of all when I am thence.
+Would I were dead! if God's good will were so;
+For what is in this world but grief and woe?
+O God! methinks it were a happy life,
+To be no better than a homely swain;
+To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
+To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
+Thereby to see the minutes how they run,
+How many make the hour full complete;
+How many hours bring about the day;
+How many days will finish up the year;
+How many years a mortal man may live.
+When this is known, then to divide the times:
+So many hours must I tend my flock;
+So many hours must I take my rest;
+So many hours must I contemplate;
+So many hours must I sport myself;
+So many days my ewes have been with young;
+So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean:
+So many years ere I shall shear the fleece:
+So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
+Pass'd over to the end they were created,
+Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
+Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!
+Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade
+To shepherds looking on their silly sheep,
+Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
+To kings that fear their subjects' treachery?
+O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
+And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds,
+His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle.
+His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
+All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
+Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
+His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
+His body couched in a curious bed,
+When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him.
+
+Son:
+Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
+This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
+May be possessed with some store of crowns;
+And I, that haply take them from him now,
+May yet ere night yield both my life and them
+To some man else, as this dead man doth me.
+Who's this? O God! it is my father's face,
+Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd.
+O heavy times, begetting such events!
+From London by the king was I press'd forth;
+My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man,
+Came on the part of York, press'd by his master;
+And I, who at his hands received my life, him
+Have by my hands of life bereaved him.
+Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did!
+And pardon, father, for I knew not thee!
+My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks;
+And no more words till they have flow'd their fill.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+O piteous spectacle! O bloody times!
+Whiles lions war and battle for their dens,
+Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.
+Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear;
+And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,
+Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged with grief.
+
+Father:
+Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me,
+Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold:
+For I have bought it with an hundred blows.
+But let me see: is this our foeman's face?
+Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!
+Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,
+Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers arise,
+Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,
+Upon thy words, that kill mine eye and heart!
+O, pity, God, this miserable age!
+What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
+Erroneous, mutinous and unnatural,
+This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!
+O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,
+And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Woe above woe! grief more than common grief!
+O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!
+O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!
+The red rose and the white are on his face,
+The fatal colours of our striving houses:
+The one his purple blood right well resembles;
+The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth:
+Wither one rose, and let the other flourish;
+If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
+
+Son:
+How will my mother for a father's death
+Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied!
+
+Father:
+How will my wife for slaughter of my son
+Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied!
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+How will the country for these woful chances
+Misthink the king and not be satisfied!
+
+Son:
+Was ever son so rued a father's death?
+
+Father:
+Was ever father so bemoan'd his son?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Was ever king so grieved for subjects' woe?
+Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much.
+
+Son:
+I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.
+
+Father:
+These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet;
+My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre,
+For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go;
+My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
+And so obsequious will thy father be,
+Even for the loss of thee, having no more,
+As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
+I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will,
+For I have murdered where I should not kill.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care,
+Here sits a king more woful than you are.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled,
+And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:
+Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain:
+Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
+Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
+With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath,
+And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,
+Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.
+
+EXETER:
+Away! for vengeance comes along with them:
+Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed;
+Or else come after: I'll away before.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter:
+Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
+Whither the queen intends. Forward; away!
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+CLIFFORD:
+Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies,
+Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light.
+O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow
+More than my body's parting with my soul!
+My love and fear glued many friends to thee;
+And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts.
+Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York,
+The common people swarm like summer flies;
+And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?
+And who shines now but Henry's enemies?
+O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent
+That Phaethon should cheque thy fiery steeds,
+Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth!
+And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
+Or as thy father and his father did,
+Giving no ground unto the house of York,
+They never then had sprung like summer flies;
+I and ten thousand in this luckless realm
+Had left no mourning widows for our death;
+And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
+For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?
+And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity?
+Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds;
+No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight:
+The foe is merciless, and will not pity;
+For at their hands I have deserved no pity.
+The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
+And much effuse of blood doth make me faint.
+Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest;
+I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.
+
+EDWARD:
+Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause,
+And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.
+Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen,
+That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
+As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
+Command an argosy to stem the waves.
+But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
+
+WARWICK:
+No, 'tis impossible he should escape,
+For, though before his face I speak the words
+Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave:
+And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.
+
+EDWARD:
+Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?
+
+RICHARD:
+A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.
+
+EDWARD:
+See who it is: and, now the battle's ended,
+If friend or foe, let him be gently used.
+
+RICHARD:
+Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford;
+Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
+In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
+But set his murdering knife unto the root
+From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,
+I mean our princely father, Duke of York.
+
+WARWICK:
+From off the gates of York fetch down the head,
+Your father's head, which Clifford placed there;
+Instead whereof let this supply the room:
+Measure for measure must be answered.
+
+EDWARD:
+Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house,
+That nothing sung but death to us and ours:
+Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound,
+And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
+
+WARWICK:
+I think his understanding is bereft.
+Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?
+Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,
+And he nor sees nor hears us what we say.
+
+RICHARD:
+O, would he did! and so perhaps he doth:
+'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,
+Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
+Which in the time of death he gave our father.
+
+GEORGE:
+If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words.
+
+RICHARD:
+Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.
+
+EDWARD:
+Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
+
+WARWICK:
+Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
+
+GEORGE:
+While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
+
+RICHARD:
+Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
+
+EDWARD:
+Thou pitied'st Rutland; I will pity thee.
+
+GEORGE:
+Where's Captain Margaret, to fence you now?
+
+WARWICK:
+They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou wast wont.
+
+RICHARD:
+What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard
+When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath.
+I know by that he's dead; and, by my soul,
+If this right hand would buy two hour's life,
+That I in all despite might rail at him,
+This hand should chop it off, and with the
+issuing blood
+Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst
+York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
+
+WARWICK:
+Ay, but he's dead: off with the traitor's head,
+And rear it in the place your father's stands.
+And now to London with triumphant march,
+There to be crowned England's royal king:
+From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France,
+And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen:
+So shalt thou sinew both these lands together;
+And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
+The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again;
+For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
+Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears.
+First will I see the coronation;
+And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea,
+To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.
+
+EDWARD:
+Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be;
+For in thy shoulder do I build my seat,
+And never will I undertake the thing
+Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.
+Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester,
+And George, of Clarence: Warwick, as ourself,
+Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.
+
+RICHARD:
+Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester;
+For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous.
+
+WARWICK:
+Tut, that's a foolish observation:
+Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London,
+To see these honours in possession.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+First Keeper:
+Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves;
+For through this laund anon the deer will come;
+And in this covert will we make our stand,
+Culling the principal of all the deer.
+
+Second Keeper:
+I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.
+
+First Keeper:
+That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow
+Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost.
+Here stand we both, and aim we at the best:
+And, for the time shall not seem tedious,
+I'll tell thee what befell me on a day
+In this self-place where now we mean to stand.
+
+Second Keeper:
+Here comes a man; let's stay till he be past.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love,
+To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
+No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine;
+Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
+Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed:
+No bending knee will call thee Caesar now,
+No humble suitors press to speak for right,
+No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
+For how can I help them, and not myself?
+
+First Keeper:
+Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee:
+This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Let me embrace thee, sour adversity,
+For wise men say it is the wisest course.
+
+Second Keeper:
+Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him.
+
+First Keeper:
+Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+My queen and son are gone to France for aid;
+And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
+Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister
+To wife for Edward: if this news be true,
+Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost;
+For Warwick is a subtle orator,
+And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words.
+By this account then Margaret may win him;
+For she's a woman to be pitied much:
+Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;
+Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;
+The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn;
+And Nero will be tainted with remorse,
+To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears.
+Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give;
+She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry,
+He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
+She weeps, and says her Henry is deposed;
+He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd;
+That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more;
+Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong,
+Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
+And in conclusion wins the king from her,
+With promise of his sister, and what else,
+To strengthen and support King Edward's place.
+O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul,
+Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn!
+
+Second Keeper:
+Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+More than I seem, and less than I was born to:
+A man at least, for less I should not be;
+And men may talk of kings, and why not I?
+
+Second Keeper:
+Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough.
+
+Second Keeper:
+But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+My crown is in my heart, not on my head;
+Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,
+Nor to be seen: my crown is called content:
+A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
+
+Second Keeper:
+Well, if you be a king crown'd with content,
+Your crown content and you must be contented
+To go along with us; for as we think,
+You are the king King Edward hath deposed;
+And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance
+Will apprehend you as his enemy.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+But did you never swear, and break an oath?
+
+Second Keeper:
+No, never such an oath; nor will not now.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Where did you dwell when I was King of England?
+
+Second Keeper:
+Here in this country, where we now remain.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+I was anointed king at nine months old;
+My father and my grandfather were kings,
+And you were sworn true subjects unto me:
+And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths?
+
+First Keeper:
+No;
+For we were subjects but while you were king.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man?
+Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear!
+Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
+And as the air blows it to me again,
+Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
+And yielding to another when it blows,
+Commanded always by the greater gust;
+Such is the lightness of you common men.
+But do not break your oaths; for of that sin
+My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
+Go where you will, the king shall be commanded;
+And be you kings, command, and I'll obey.
+
+First Keeper:
+We are true subjects to the king, King Edward.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+So would you be again to Henry,
+If he were seated as King Edward is.
+
+First Keeper:
+We charge you, in God's name, and the king's,
+To go with us unto the officers.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd:
+And what God will, that let your king perform;
+And what he will, I humbly yield unto.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Alban's field
+This lady's husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain,
+His lands then seized on by the conqueror:
+Her suit is now to repossess those lands;
+Which we in justice cannot well deny,
+Because in quarrel of the house of York
+The worthy gentleman did lose his life.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Your highness shall do well to grant her suit;
+It were dishonour to deny it her.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+CLARENCE:
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Widow, we will consider of your suit;
+And come some other time to know our mind.
+
+LADY GREY:
+Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay:
+May it please your highness to resolve me now;
+And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+CLARENCE:
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+How many children hast thou, widow? tell me.
+
+CLARENCE:
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+LADY GREY:
+Three, my most gracious lord.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+'Twere pity they should lose their father's lands.
+
+LADY GREY:
+Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Lords, give us leave: I'll try this widow's wit.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?
+
+LADY GREY:
+Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+And would you not do much to do them good?
+
+LADY GREY:
+To do them good, I would sustain some harm.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Then get your husband's lands, to do them good.
+
+LADY GREY:
+Therefore I came unto your majesty.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+I'll tell you how these lands are to be got.
+
+LADY GREY:
+So shall you bind me to your highness' service.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+What service wilt thou do me, if I give them?
+
+LADY GREY:
+What you command, that rests in me to do.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+But you will take exceptions to my boon.
+
+LADY GREY:
+No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
+
+LADY GREY:
+Why, then I will do what your grace commands.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+CLARENCE:
+
+LADY GREY:
+Why stops my lord, shall I not hear my task?
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+An easy task; 'tis but to love a king.
+
+LADY GREY:
+That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee.
+
+LADY GREY:
+I take my leave with many thousand thanks.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean.
+
+LADY GREY:
+The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.
+What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?
+
+LADY GREY:
+My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;
+That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.
+
+LADY GREY:
+Why, then you mean not as I thought you did.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+But now you partly may perceive my mind.
+
+LADY GREY:
+My mind will never grant what I perceive
+Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
+
+LADY GREY:
+To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands.
+
+LADY GREY:
+Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower;
+For by that loss I will not purchase them.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily.
+
+LADY GREY:
+Herein your highness wrongs both them and me.
+But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
+Accords not with the sadness of my suit:
+Please you dismiss me either with 'ay' or 'no.'
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Ay, if thou wilt say 'ay' to my request;
+No if thou dost say 'no' to my demand.
+
+LADY GREY:
+Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+CLARENCE:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+
+LADY GREY:
+'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord:
+I am a subject fit to jest withal,
+But far unfit to be a sovereign.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee
+I speak no more than what my soul intends;
+And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.
+
+LADY GREY:
+And that is more than I will yield unto:
+I know I am too mean to be your queen,
+And yet too good to be your concubine.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+You cavil, widow: I did mean, my queen.
+
+LADY GREY:
+'Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+No more than when my daughters call thee mother.
+Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children;
+And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor,
+Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing
+To be the father unto many sons.
+Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+CLARENCE:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+You'll think it strange if I should marry her.
+
+CLARENCE:
+To whom, my lord?
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Why, Clarence, to myself.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+That would be ten days' wonder at the least.
+
+CLARENCE:
+That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+By so much is the wonder in extremes.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you both
+Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.
+
+Nobleman:
+My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken,
+And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+See that he be convey'd unto the Tower:
+And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
+To question of his apprehension.
+Widow, go you along. Lords, use her honourably.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Ay, Edward will use women honourably.
+Would he were wasted, marrow, bones and all,
+That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
+To cross me from the golden time I look for!
+And yet, between my soul's desire and me--
+The lustful Edward's title buried--
+Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward,
+And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies,
+To take their rooms, ere I can place myself:
+A cold premeditation for my purpose!
+Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty;
+Like one that stands upon a promontory,
+And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
+Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
+And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,
+Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way:
+So do I wish the crown, being so far off;
+And so I chide the means that keeps me from it;
+And so I say, I'll cut the causes off,
+Flattering me with impossibilities.
+My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much,
+Unless my hand and strength could equal them.
+Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard;
+What other pleasure can the world afford?
+I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap,
+And deck my body in gay ornaments,
+And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks.
+O miserable thought! and more unlikely
+Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns!
+Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb:
+And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
+She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe,
+To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
+To make an envious mountain on my back,
+Where sits deformity to mock my body;
+To shape my legs of an unequal size;
+To disproportion me in every part,
+Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp
+That carries no impression like the dam.
+And am I then a man to be beloved?
+O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought!
+Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
+But to command, to cheque, to o'erbear such
+As are of better person than myself,
+I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown,
+And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,
+Until my mis-shaped trunk that bears this head
+Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
+And yet I know not how to get the crown,
+For many lives stand between me and home:
+And I,--like one lost in a thorny wood,
+That rends the thorns and is rent with the thorns,
+Seeking a way and straying from the way;
+Not knowing how to find the open air,
+But toiling desperately to find it out,--
+Torment myself to catch the English crown:
+And from that torment I will free myself,
+Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
+Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile,
+And cry 'Content' to that which grieves my heart,
+And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
+And frame my face to all occasions.
+I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
+I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
+I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
+Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
+And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.
+I can add colours to the chameleon,
+Change shapes with Proteus for advantages,
+And set the murderous Machiavel to school.
+Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
+Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret,
+Sit down with us: it ill befits thy state
+And birth, that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+No, mighty King of France: now Margaret
+Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve
+Where kings command. I was, I must confess,
+Great Albion's queen in former golden days:
+But now mischance hath trod my title down,
+And with dishonour laid me on the ground;
+Where I must take like seat unto my fortune,
+And to my humble seat conform myself.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep despair?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears
+And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself,
+And sit thee by our side:
+Yield not thy neck
+To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind
+Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
+Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief;
+It shall be eased, if France can yield relief.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts
+And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
+Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,
+That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
+Is of a king become a banish'd man,
+And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn;
+While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York
+Usurps the regal title and the seat
+Of England's true-anointed lawful king.
+This is the cause that I, poor Margaret,
+With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir,
+Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid;
+And if thou fail us, all our hope is done:
+Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help;
+Our people and our peers are both misled,
+Our treasures seized, our soldiers put to flight,
+And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Renowned queen, with patience calm the storm,
+While we bethink a means to break it off.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+The more I stay, the more I'll succor thee.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
+And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow!
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+What's he approacheth boldly to our presence?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings thee to France?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Ay, now begins a second storm to rise;
+For this is he that moves both wind and tide.
+
+WARWICK:
+From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
+My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend,
+I come, in kindness and unfeigned love,
+First, to do greetings to thy royal person;
+And then to crave a league of amity;
+And lastly, to confirm that amity
+With a nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
+That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister,
+To England's king in lawful marriage.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+
+WARWICK:
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak,
+Before you answer Warwick. His demand
+Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love,
+But from deceit bred by necessity;
+For how can tyrants safely govern home,
+Unless abroad they purchase great alliance?
+To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice,
+That Henry liveth still: but were he dead,
+Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son.
+Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage
+Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour;
+For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
+Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.
+
+WARWICK:
+Injurious Margaret!
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+And why not queen?
+
+WARWICK:
+Because thy father Henry did usurp;
+And thou no more are prince than she is queen.
+
+OXFORD:
+Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt,
+Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain;
+And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
+Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest;
+And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth,
+Who by his prowess conquered all France:
+From these our Henry lineally descends.
+
+WARWICK:
+Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth discourse,
+You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost
+All that which Henry Fifth had gotten?
+Methinks these peers of France should smile at that.
+But for the rest, you tell a pedigree
+Of threescore and two years; a silly time
+To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.
+
+OXFORD:
+Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege,
+Whom thou obeyed'st thirty and six years,
+And not bewray thy treason with a blush?
+
+WARWICK:
+Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,
+Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree?
+For shame! leave Henry, and call Edward king.
+
+OXFORD:
+Call him my king by whose injurious doom
+My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere,
+Was done to death? and more than so, my father,
+Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years,
+When nature brought him to the door of death?
+No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm,
+This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
+
+WARWICK:
+And I the house of York.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,
+Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside,
+While I use further conference with Warwick.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Heavens grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not!
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Now Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience,
+Is Edward your true king? for I were loath
+To link with him that were not lawful chosen.
+
+WARWICK:
+Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+But is he gracious in the people's eye?
+
+WARWICK:
+The more that Henry was unfortunate.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Then further, all dissembling set aside,
+Tell me for truth the measure of his love
+Unto our sister Bona.
+
+WARWICK:
+Such it seems
+As may beseem a monarch like himself.
+Myself have often heard him say and swear
+That this his love was an eternal plant,
+Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground,
+The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun,
+Exempt from envy, but not from disdain,
+Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve.
+
+BONA:
+Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine:
+Yet I confess that often ere this day,
+When I have heard your king's desert recounted,
+Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Then, Warwick, thus: our sister shall be Edward's;
+And now forthwith shall articles be drawn
+Touching the jointure that your king must make,
+Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised.
+Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness
+That Bona shall be wife to the English king.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+To Edward, but not to the English king.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Deceitful Warwick! it was thy device
+By this alliance to make void my suit:
+Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+And still is friend to him and Margaret:
+But if your title to the crown be weak,
+As may appear by Edward's good success,
+Then 'tis but reason that I be released
+From giving aid which late I promised.
+Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand
+That your estate requires and mine can yield.
+
+WARWICK:
+Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease,
+Where having nothing, nothing can he lose.
+And as for you yourself, our quondam queen,
+You have a father able to maintain you;
+And better 'twere you troubled him than France.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, peace,
+Proud setter up and puller down of kings!
+I will not hence, till, with my talk and tears,
+Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold
+Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love;
+For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Warwick, this is some post to us or thee.
+
+Post:
+
+OXFORD:
+I like it well that our fair queen and mistress
+Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Nay, mark how Lewis stamps, as he were nettled:
+I hope all's for the best.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Warwick, what are thy news? and yours, fair queen?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys.
+
+WARWICK:
+Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+What! has your king married the Lady Grey!
+And now, to soothe your forgery and his,
+Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?
+Is this the alliance that he seeks with France?
+Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+I told your majesty as much before:
+This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty.
+
+WARWICK:
+King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of heaven,
+And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,
+That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's,
+No more my king, for he dishonours me,
+But most himself, if he could see his shame.
+Did I forget that by the house of York
+My father came untimely to his death?
+Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece?
+Did I impale him with the regal crown?
+Did I put Henry from his native right?
+And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame?
+Shame on himself! for my desert is honour:
+And to repair my honour lost for him,
+I here renounce him and return to Henry.
+My noble queen, let former grudges pass,
+And henceforth I am thy true servitor:
+I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
+And replant Henry in his former state.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love;
+And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
+And joy that thou becomest King Henry's friend.
+
+WARWICK:
+So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend,
+That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us
+With some few bands of chosen soldiers,
+I'll undertake to land them on our coast
+And force the tyrant from his seat by war.
+'Tis not his new-made bride shall succor him:
+And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me,
+He's very likely now to fall from him,
+For matching more for wanton lust than honour,
+Or than for strength and safety of our country.
+
+BONA:
+Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged
+But by thy help to this distressed queen?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry live,
+Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
+
+BONA:
+My quarrel and this English queen's are one.
+
+WARWICK:
+And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret's.
+Therefore at last I firmly am resolved
+You shall have aid.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Let me give humble thanks for all at once.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Then, England's messenger, return in post,
+And tell false Edward, thy supposed king,
+That Lewis of France is sending over masquers
+To revel it with him and his new bride:
+Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king withal.
+
+BONA:
+Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly,
+I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid aside,
+And I am ready to put armour on.
+
+WARWICK:
+Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong,
+And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.
+There's thy reward: be gone.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+But, Warwick,
+Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men,
+Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle;
+And, as occasion serves, this noble queen
+And prince shall follow with a fresh supply.
+Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt,
+What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty?
+
+WARWICK:
+This shall assure my constant loyalty,
+That if our queen and this young prince agree,
+I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy
+To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion.
+Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous,
+Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick;
+And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
+That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it;
+And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand.
+
+KING LEWIS XI:
+Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied,
+And thou, Lord Bourbon, our high admiral,
+Shalt waft them over with our royal fleet.
+I long till Edward fall by war's mischance,
+For mocking marriage with a dame of France.
+
+WARWICK:
+I came from Edward as ambassador,
+But I return his sworn and mortal foe:
+Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me,
+But dreadful war shall answer his demand.
+Had he none else to make a stale but me?
+Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow.
+I was the chief that raised him to the crown,
+And I'll be chief to bring him down again:
+Not that I pity Henry's misery,
+But seek revenge on Edward's mockery.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you
+Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey?
+Hath not our brother made a worthy choice?
+
+CLARENCE:
+Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence to France;
+How could he stay till Warwick made return?
+
+SOMERSET:
+My lords, forbear this talk; here comes the king.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+And his well-chosen bride.
+
+CLARENCE:
+I mind to tell him plainly what I think.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice,
+That you stand pensive, as half malcontent?
+
+CLARENCE:
+As well as Lewis of France, or the Earl of Warwick,
+Which are so weak of courage and in judgment
+That they'll take no offence at our abuse.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Suppose they take offence without a cause,
+They are but Lewis and Warwick: I am Edward,
+Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+And shall have your will, because our king:
+Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Not I:
+No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd
+Whom God hath join'd together; ay, and 'twere pity
+To sunder them that yoke so well together.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Setting your scorns and your mislike aside,
+Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey
+Should not become my wife and England's queen.
+And you too, Somerset and Montague,
+Speak freely what you think.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Then this is mine opinion: that King Lewis
+Becomes your enemy, for mocking him
+About the marriage of the Lady Bona.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge,
+Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeased
+By such invention as I can devise?
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Yet, to have join'd with France in such alliance
+Would more have strengthen'd this our commonwealth
+'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Why, knows not Montague that of itself
+England is safe, if true within itself?
+
+MONTAGUE:
+But the safer when 'tis back'd with France.
+
+HASTINGS:
+'Tis better using France than trusting France:
+Let us be back'd with God and with the seas
+Which He hath given for fence impregnable,
+And with their helps only defend ourselves;
+In them and in ourselves our safety lies.
+
+CLARENCE:
+For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves
+To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Ay, what of that? it was my will and grant;
+And for this once my will shall stand for law.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+And yet methinks your grace hath not done well,
+To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales
+Unto the brother of your loving bride;
+She better would have fitted me or Clarence:
+But in your bride you bury brotherhood.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir
+Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son,
+And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a wife
+That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.
+
+CLARENCE:
+In choosing for yourself, you show'd your judgment,
+Which being shallow, you give me leave
+To play the broker in mine own behalf;
+And to that end I shortly mind to leave you.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be king,
+And not be tied unto his brother's will.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+My lords, before it pleased his majesty
+To raise my state to title of a queen,
+Do me but right, and you must all confess
+That I was not ignoble of descent;
+And meaner than myself have had like fortune.
+But as this title honours me and mine,
+So your dislike, to whom I would be pleasing,
+Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+My love, forbear to fawn upon their frowns:
+What danger or what sorrow can befall thee,
+So long as Edward is thy constant friend,
+And their true sovereign, whom they must obey?
+Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too,
+Unless they seek for hatred at my hands;
+Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe,
+And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now, messenger, what letters or what news
+From France?
+
+Post:
+My sovereign liege, no letters; and few words,
+But such as I, without your special pardon,
+Dare not relate.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Go to, we pardon thee: therefore, in brief,
+Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them.
+What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters?
+
+Post:
+At my depart, these were his very words:
+'Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king,
+That Lewis of France is sending over masquers
+To revel it with him and his new bride.'
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Is Lewis so brave? belike he thinks me Henry.
+But what said Lady Bona to my marriage?
+
+Post:
+These were her words, utter'd with mad disdain:
+'Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly,
+I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.'
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+I blame not her, she could say little less;
+She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen?
+For I have heard that she was there in place.
+
+Post:
+'Tell him,' quoth she, 'my mourning weeds are done,
+And I am ready to put armour on.'
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Belike she minds to play the Amazon.
+But what said Warwick to these injuries?
+
+Post:
+He, more incensed against your majesty
+Than all the rest, discharged me with these words:
+'Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong,
+And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.'
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so proud words?
+Well I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd:
+They shall have wars and pay for their presumption.
+But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?
+
+Post:
+Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd in
+friendship
+That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Belike the elder; Clarence will have the younger.
+Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast,
+For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter;
+That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage
+I may not prove inferior to yourself.
+You that love me and Warwick, follow me.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick!
+Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen;
+And haste is needful in this desperate case.
+Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf
+Go levy men, and make prepare for war;
+They are already, or quickly will be landed:
+Myself in person will straight follow you.
+But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague,
+Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest,
+Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance:
+Tell me if you love Warwick more than me?
+If it be so, then both depart to him;
+I rather wish you foes than hollow friends:
+But if you mind to hold your true obedience,
+Give me assurance with some friendly vow,
+That I may never have you in suspect.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+So God help Montague as he proves true!
+
+HASTINGS:
+And Hastings as he favours Edward's cause!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Why, so! then am I sure of victory.
+Now therefore let us hence; and lose no hour,
+Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+WARWICK:
+Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well;
+The common people by numbers swarm to us.
+But see where Somerset and Clarence come!
+Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends?
+
+CLARENCE:
+Fear not that, my lord.
+
+WARWICK:
+Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick;
+And welcome, Somerset: I hold it cowardice
+To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
+Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love;
+Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother,
+Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings:
+But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be thine.
+And now what rests but, in night's coverture,
+Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd,
+His soldiers lurking in the towns about,
+And but attended by a simple guard,
+We may surprise and take him at our pleasure?
+Our scouts have found the adventure very easy:
+That as Ulysses and stout Diomede
+With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents,
+And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds,
+So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle,
+At unawares may beat down Edward's guard
+And seize himself; I say not, slaughter him,
+For I intend but only to surprise him.
+You that will follow me to this attempt,
+Applaud the name of Henry with your leader.
+Why, then, let's on our way in silent sort:
+For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George!
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+First Watchman:
+Come on, my masters, each man take his stand:
+The king by this is set him down to sleep.
+
+Second Watchman:
+What, will he not to bed?
+
+First Watchman:
+Why, no; for he hath made a solemn vow
+Never to lie and take his natural rest
+Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress'd.
+
+Second Watchman:
+To-morrow then belike shall be the day,
+If Warwick be so near as men report.
+
+Third Watchman:
+But say, I pray, what nobleman is that
+That with the king here resteth in his tent?
+
+First Watchman:
+'Tis the Lord Hastings, the king's chiefest friend.
+
+Third Watchman:
+O, is it so? But why commands the king
+That his chief followers lodge in towns about him,
+While he himself keeps in the cold field?
+
+Second Watchman:
+'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous.
+
+Third Watchman:
+Ay, but give me worship and quietness;
+I like it better than a dangerous honour.
+If Warwick knew in what estate he stands,
+'Tis to be doubted he would waken him.
+
+First Watchman:
+Unless our halberds did shut up his passage.
+
+Second Watchman:
+Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent,
+But to defend his person from night-foes?
+
+WARWICK:
+This is his tent; and see where stand his guard.
+Courage, my masters! honour now or never!
+But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.
+
+First Watchman:
+Who goes there?
+
+Second Watchman:
+Stay, or thou diest!
+
+SOMERSET:
+What are they that fly there?
+
+WARWICK:
+Richard and Hastings: let them go; here is The duke.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+The duke! Why, Warwick, when we parted,
+Thou call'dst me king.
+
+WARWICK:
+Ay, but the case is alter'd:
+When you disgraced me in my embassade,
+Then I degraded you from being king,
+And come now to create you Duke of York.
+Alas! how should you govern any kingdom,
+That know not how to use ambassadors,
+Nor how to be contented with one wife,
+Nor how to use your brothers brotherly,
+Nor how to study for the people's welfare,
+Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies?
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Yea, brother of Clarence, are thou here too?
+Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down.
+Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance,
+Of thee thyself and all thy complices,
+Edward will always bear himself as king:
+Though fortune's malice overthrow my state,
+My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.
+
+WARWICK:
+Then, for his mind, be Edward England's king:
+But Henry now shall wear the English crown,
+And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow.
+My Lord of Somerset, at my request,
+See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd
+Unto my brother, Archbishop of York.
+When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows,
+I'll follow you, and tell what answer
+Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.
+Now, for a while farewell, good Duke of York.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+What fates impose, that men must needs abide;
+It boots not to resist both wind and tide.
+
+OXFORD:
+What now remains, my lords, for us to do
+But march to London with our soldiers?
+
+WARWICK:
+Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do;
+To free King Henry from imprisonment
+And see him seated in the regal throne.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+RIVERS:
+Madam, what makes you in this sudden change?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Why brother Rivers, are you yet to learn
+What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward?
+
+RIVERS:
+What! loss of some pitch'd battle against Warwick?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+No, but the loss of his own royal person.
+
+RIVERS:
+Then is my sovereign slain?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner,
+Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard
+Or by his foe surprised at unawares:
+And, as I further have to understand,
+Is new committed to the Bishop of York,
+Fell Warwick's brother and by that our foe.
+
+RIVERS:
+These news I must confess are full of grief;
+Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may:
+Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Till then fair hope must hinder life's decay.
+And I the rather wean me from despair
+For love of Edward's offspring in my womb:
+This is it that makes me bridle passion
+And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross;
+Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear
+And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs,
+Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown
+King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English crown.
+
+RIVERS:
+But, madam, where is Warwick then become?
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+I am inform'd that he comes towards London,
+To set the crown once more on Henry's head:
+Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends must down,
+But, to prevent the tyrant's violence,--
+For trust not him that hath once broken faith,--
+I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary,
+To save at least the heir of Edward's right:
+There shall I rest secure from force and fraud.
+Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly:
+If Warwick take us we are sure to die.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley,
+Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither,
+Into this chiefest thicket of the park.
+Thus stands the case: you know our king, my brother,
+Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands
+He hath good usage and great liberty,
+And, often but attended with weak guard,
+Comes hunting this way to disport himself.
+I have advertised him by secret means
+That if about this hour he make his way
+Under the colour of his usual game,
+He shall here find his friends with horse and men
+To set him free from his captivity.
+
+Huntsman:
+This way, my lord; for this way lies the game.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Nay, this way, man: see where the huntsmen stand.
+Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
+Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop's deer?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Brother, the time and case requireth haste:
+Your horse stands ready at the park-corner.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+But whither shall we then?
+
+HASTINGS:
+To Lynn, my lord,
+And ship from thence to Flanders.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my meaning.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talk.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Huntsman, what say'st thou? wilt thou go along?
+
+Huntsman:
+Better do so than tarry and be hang'd.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Come then, away; let's ha' no more ado.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Bishop, farewell: shield thee from Warwick's frown;
+And pray that I may repossess the crown.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Master lieutenant, now that God and friends
+Have shaken Edward from the regal seat,
+And turn'd my captive state to liberty,
+My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys,
+At our enlargement what are thy due fees?
+
+Lieutenant:
+Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns;
+But if an humble prayer may prevail,
+I then crave pardon of your majesty.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+For what, lieutenant? for well using me?
+Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness,
+For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure;
+Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds
+Conceive when after many moody thoughts
+At last by notes of household harmony
+They quite forget their loss of liberty.
+But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free,
+And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee;
+He was the author, thou the instrument.
+Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite
+By living low, where fortune cannot hurt me,
+And that the people of this blessed land
+May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars,
+Warwick, although my head still wear the crown,
+I here resign my government to thee,
+For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
+
+WARWICK:
+Your grace hath still been famed for virtuous;
+And now may seem as wise as virtuous,
+By spying and avoiding fortune's malice,
+For few men rightly temper with the stars:
+Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace,
+For choosing me when Clarence is in place.
+
+CLARENCE:
+No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway,
+To whom the heavens in thy nativity
+Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown,
+As likely to be blest in peace and war;
+And therefore I yield thee my free consent.
+
+WARWICK:
+And I choose Clarence only for protector.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Warwick and Clarence give me both your hands:
+Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts,
+That no dissension hinder government:
+I make you both protectors of this land,
+While I myself will lead a private life
+And in devotion spend my latter days,
+To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise.
+
+WARWICK:
+What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will?
+
+CLARENCE:
+That he consents, if Warwick yield consent;
+For on thy fortune I repose myself.
+
+WARWICK:
+Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content:
+We'll yoke together, like a double shadow
+To Henry's body, and supply his place;
+I mean, in bearing weight of government,
+While he enjoys the honour and his ease.
+And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful
+Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor,
+And all his lands and goods be confiscate.
+
+CLARENCE:
+What else? and that succession be determined.
+
+WARWICK:
+Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+But, with the first of all your chief affairs,
+Let me entreat, for I command no more,
+That Margaret your queen and my son Edward
+Be sent for, to return from France with speed;
+For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear
+My joy of liberty is half eclipsed.
+
+CLARENCE:
+It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+My Lord of Somerset, what youth is that,
+Of whom you seem to have so tender care?
+
+SOMERSET:
+My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Richmond.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Come hither, England's hope.
+If secret powers
+Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts,
+This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss.
+His looks are full of peaceful majesty,
+His head by nature framed to wear a crown,
+His hand to wield a sceptre, and himself
+Likely in time to bless a regal throne.
+Make much of him, my lords, for this is he
+Must help you more than you are hurt by me.
+
+WARWICK:
+What news, my friend?
+
+Post:
+That Edward is escaped from your brother,
+And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.
+
+WARWICK:
+Unsavoury news! but how made he escape?
+
+Post:
+He was convey'd by Richard Duke of Gloucester
+And the Lord Hastings, who attended him
+In secret ambush on the forest side
+And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him;
+For hunting was his daily exercise.
+
+WARWICK:
+My brother was too careless of his charge.
+But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide
+A salve for any sore that may betide.
+
+SOMERSET:
+My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's;
+For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help,
+And we shall have more wars before 't be long.
+As Henry's late presaging prophecy
+Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond,
+So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts
+What may befall him, to his harm and ours:
+Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst,
+Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany,
+Till storms be past of civil enmity.
+
+OXFORD:
+Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown,
+'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down.
+
+SOMERSET:
+It shall be so; he shall to Brittany.
+Come, therefore, let's about it speedily.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now, brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
+Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends,
+And says that once more I shall interchange
+My waned state for Henry's regal crown.
+Well have we pass'd and now repass'd the seas
+And brought desired help from Burgundy:
+What then remains, we being thus arrived
+From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York,
+But that we enter, as into our dukedom?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+The gates made fast! Brother, I like not this;
+For many men that stumble at the threshold
+Are well foretold that danger lurks within.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us:
+By fair or foul means we must enter in,
+For hither will our friends repair to us.
+
+HASTINGS:
+My liege, I'll knock once more to summon them.
+
+Mayor:
+My lords, we were forewarned of your coming,
+And shut the gates for safety of ourselves;
+For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+But, master mayor, if Henry be your king,
+Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York.
+
+Mayor:
+True, my good lord; I know you for no less.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom,
+As being well content with that alone.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+HASTINGS:
+Why, master mayor, why stand you in a doubt?
+Open the gates; we are King Henry's friends.
+
+Mayor:
+Ay, say you so? the gates shall then be open'd.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded!
+
+HASTINGS:
+The good old man would fain that all were well,
+So 'twere not 'long of him; but being enter'd,
+I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade
+Both him and all his brothers unto reason.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+So, master mayor: these gates must not be shut
+But in the night or in the time of war.
+What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys;
+For Edward will defend the town and thee,
+And all those friends that deign to follow me.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery,
+Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Welcome, Sir John! But why come you in arms?
+
+MONTAGUE:
+To help King Edward in his time of storm,
+As every loyal subject ought to do.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Thanks, good Montgomery; but we now forget
+Our title to the crown and only claim
+Our dukedom till God please to send the rest.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Then fare you well, for I will hence again:
+I came to serve a king and not a duke.
+Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Nay, stay, Sir John, awhile, and we'll debate
+By what safe means the crown may be recover'd.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+What talk you of debating? in few words,
+If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king,
+I'll leave you to your fortune and be gone
+To keep them back that come to succor you:
+Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points?
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+When we grow stronger, then we'll make our claim:
+Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Away with scrupulous wit! now arms must rule.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.
+Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand:
+The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Then be it as you will; for 'tis my right,
+And Henry but usurps the diadem.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself;
+And now will I be Edward's champion.
+
+HASTINGS:
+Sound trumpet; Edward shall be here proclaim'd:
+Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation.
+
+Soldier:
+Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, king of
+England and France, and lord of Ireland, &c.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+And whosoe'er gainsays King Edward's right,
+By this I challenge him to single fight.
+
+All:
+Long live Edward the Fourth!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Thanks, brave Montgomery; and thanks unto you all:
+If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness.
+Now, for this night, let's harbour here in York;
+And when the morning sun shall raise his car
+Above the border of this horizon,
+We'll forward towards Warwick and his mates;
+For well I wot that Henry is no soldier.
+Ah, froward Clarence! how evil it beseems thee
+To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother!
+Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick.
+Come on, brave soldiers: doubt not of the day,
+And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+WARWICK:
+What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia,
+With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders,
+Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas,
+And with his troops doth march amain to London;
+And many giddy people flock to him.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Let's levy men, and beat him back again.
+
+CLARENCE:
+A little fire is quickly trodden out;
+Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.
+
+WARWICK:
+In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends,
+Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war;
+Those will I muster up: and thou, son Clarence,
+Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
+The knights and gentlemen to come with thee:
+Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
+Northampton and in Leicestershire, shalt find
+Men well inclined to hear what thou command'st:
+And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved,
+In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.
+My sovereign, with the loving citizens,
+Like to his island girt in with the ocean,
+Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs,
+Shall rest in London till we come to him.
+Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply.
+Farewell, my sovereign.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's true hope.
+
+CLARENCE:
+In sign of truth, I kiss your highness' hand.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate!
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave.
+
+OXFORD:
+And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,
+And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
+
+WARWICK:
+Farewell, sweet lords: let's meet at Coventry.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Here at the palace I will rest awhile.
+Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship?
+Methinks the power that Edward hath in field
+Should not be able to encounter mine.
+
+EXETER:
+The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+That's not my fear; my meed hath got me fame:
+I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands,
+Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;
+My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
+My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs,
+My mercy dried their water-flowing tears;
+I have not been desirous of their wealth,
+Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies.
+Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd:
+Then why should they love Edward more than me?
+No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace:
+And when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
+The lamb will never cease to follow him.
+
+EXETER:
+Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are these?
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Seize on the shame-faced Henry, bear him hence;
+And once again proclaim us King of England.
+You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow:
+Now stops thy spring; my sea sha$l suck them dry,
+And swell so much the higher by their ebb.
+Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak.
+And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course
+Where peremptory Warwick now remains:
+The sun shines hot; and, if we use delay,
+Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Away betimes, before his forces join,
+And take the great-grown traitor unawares:
+Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+WARWICK:
+Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?
+How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
+
+First Messenger:
+By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.
+
+WARWICK:
+How far off is our brother Montague?
+Where is the post that came from Montague?
+
+Second Messenger:
+By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop.
+
+WARWICK:
+Say, Somerville, what says my loving son?
+And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
+
+SOMERSET:
+At Southam I did leave him with his forces,
+And do expect him here some two hours hence.
+
+WARWICK:
+Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum.
+
+SOMERSET:
+It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies:
+The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick.
+
+WARWICK:
+Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for friends.
+
+SOMERSET:
+They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+See how the surly Warwick mans the wall!
+
+WARWICK:
+O unbid spite! is sportful Edward come?
+Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced,
+That we could hear no news of his repair?
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates,
+Speak gentle words and humbly bend thy knee,
+Call Edward king and at his hands beg mercy?
+And he shall pardon thee these outrages.
+
+WARWICK:
+Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
+Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee own,
+Call Warwick patron and be penitent?
+And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I thought, at least, he would have said the king;
+Or did he make the jest against his will?
+
+WARWICK:
+Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give:
+I'll do thee service for so good a gift.
+
+WARWICK:
+'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift.
+
+WARWICK:
+Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:
+And weakling, Warwick takes his gift again;
+And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner:
+And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this:
+What is the body when the head is off?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast,
+But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,
+The king was slily finger'd from the deck!
+You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace,
+And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower.
+
+EDWARD:
+'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel down:
+Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools.
+
+WARWICK:
+I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,
+And with the other fling it at thy face,
+Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend,
+This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair
+Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off,
+Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood,
+'Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.'
+
+WARWICK:
+O cheerful colours! see where Oxford comes!
+
+OXFORD:
+Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+The gates are open, let us enter too.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+So other foes may set upon our backs.
+Stand we in good array; for they no doubt
+Will issue out again and bid us battle:
+If not, the city being but of small defence,
+We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.
+
+WARWICK:
+O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help.
+
+MONTAGUE:
+Montague, Montague, for Lancaster!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason
+Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+The harder match'd, the greater victory:
+My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.
+
+SOMERSET:
+Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset,
+Have sold their lives unto the house of York;
+And thou shalt be the third if this sword hold.
+
+WARWICK:
+And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along,
+Of force enough to bid his brother battle;
+With whom an upright zeal to right prevails
+More than the nature of a brother's love!
+Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Father of Warwick, know you what this means?
+Look here, I throw my infamy at thee
+I will not ruinate my father's house,
+Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,
+And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick,
+That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
+To bend the fatal instruments of war
+Against his brother and his lawful king?
+Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath:
+To keep that oath were more impiety
+Than Jephthah's, when he sacrificed his daughter.
+I am so sorry for my trespass made
+That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
+I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe,
+With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee--
+As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad--
+To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
+And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
+And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.
+Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends:
+And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
+For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved,
+Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Welcome, good Clarence; this is brotherlike.
+
+WARWICK:
+O passing traitor, perjured and unjust!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight?
+Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
+
+WARWICK:
+Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence!
+I will away towards Barnet presently,
+And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way.
+Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory!
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;
+For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.
+Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
+That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.
+
+WARWICK:
+Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe,
+And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick?
+Why ask I that? my mangled body shows,
+My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows.
+That I must yield my body to the earth
+And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
+Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
+Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
+Under whose shade the ramping lion slept,
+Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree
+And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
+These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil,
+Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
+To search the secret treasons of the world:
+The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood,
+Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres;
+For who lived king, but I could dig his grave?
+And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow?
+Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!
+My parks, my walks, my manors that I had.
+Even now forsake me, and of all my lands
+Is nothing left me but my body's length.
+Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
+And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
+
+SOMERSET:
+Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are.
+We might recover all our loss again;
+The queen from France hath brought a puissant power:
+Even now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou fly!
+
+WARWICK:
+Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague,
+If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand.
+And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile!
+Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst,
+Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood
+That glues my lips and will not let me speak.
+Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
+
+SOMERSET:
+Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breathed his last;
+And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick,
+And said 'Commend me to my valiant brother.'
+And more he would have said, and more he spoke,
+Which sounded like a clamour in a vault,
+That mought not be distinguished; but at last
+I well might hear, delivered with a groan,
+'O, farewell, Warwick!'
+
+WARWICK:
+Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves;
+For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven.
+
+OXFORD:
+Away, away, to meet the queen's great power!
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,
+And we are graced with wreaths of victory.
+But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
+I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud,
+That will encounter with our glorious sun,
+Ere he attain his easeful western bed:
+I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen
+Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast
+And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
+
+CLARENCE:
+A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
+And blow it to the source from whence it came:
+The very beams will dry those vapours up,
+For every cloud engenders not a storm.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+The queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
+And Somerset, with Oxford fled to her:
+If she have time to breathe be well assured
+Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+We are advertised by our loving friends
+That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury:
+We, having now the best at Barnet field,
+Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;
+And, as we march, our strength will be augmented
+In every county as we go along.
+Strike up the drum; cry 'Courage!' and away.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,
+But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
+What though the mast be now blown overboard,
+The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,
+And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood?
+Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he
+Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad
+With tearful eyes add water to the sea
+And give more strength to that which hath too much,
+Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,
+Which industry and courage might have saved?
+Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!
+Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that?
+And Montague our topmost; what of him?
+Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these?
+Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
+And Somerset another goodly mast?
+The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?
+And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I
+For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?
+We will not from the helm to sit and weep,
+But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,
+From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck.
+As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.
+And what is Edward but ruthless sea?
+What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?
+And Richard but a ragged fatal rock?
+All these the enemies to our poor bark.
+Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while!
+Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink:
+Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,
+Or else you famish; that's a threefold death.
+This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
+If case some one of you would fly from us,
+That there's no hoped-for mercy with the brothers
+More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.
+Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided
+'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit
+Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
+Infuse his breast with magnanimity
+And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.
+I speak not this as doubting any here
+For did I but suspect a fearful man
+He should have leave to go away betimes,
+Lest in our need he might infect another
+And make him of like spirit to himself.
+If any such be here--as God forbid!--
+Let him depart before we need his help.
+
+OXFORD:
+Women and children of so high a courage,
+And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame.
+O brave young prince! thy famous grandfather
+Doth live again in thee: long mayst thou live
+To bear his image and renew his glories!
+
+SOMERSET:
+And he that will not fight for such a hope.
+Go home to bed, and like the owl by day,
+If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.
+
+Messenger:
+Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand.
+Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.
+
+OXFORD:
+I thought no less: it is his policy
+To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.
+
+SOMERSET:
+But he's deceived; we are in readiness.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.
+
+OXFORD:
+Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,
+Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength,
+Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
+I need not add more fuel to your fire,
+For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out
+Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords!
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say
+My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
+Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
+Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,
+Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
+His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,
+His statutes cancell'd and his treasure spent;
+And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
+You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords,
+Be valiant and give signal to the fight.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now here a period of tumultuous broils.
+Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight:
+For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
+Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak.
+
+OXFORD:
+For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.
+
+SOMERSET:
+Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+So part we sadly in this troublous world,
+To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Is proclamation made, that who finds Edward
+Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+It is: and lo, where youthful Edward comes!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak.
+What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?
+Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make
+For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
+And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York!
+Suppose that I am now my father's mouth;
+Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou,
+Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee,
+Which traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Ah, that thy father had been so resolved!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+That you might still have worn the petticoat,
+And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Let AEsop fable in a winter's night;
+His currish riddles sort not with this place.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+For God's sake, take away this captive scold.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert.
+
+PRINCE EDWARD:
+I know my duty; you are all undutiful:
+Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George,
+And thou mis-shapen Dick, I tell ye all
+I am your better, traitors as ye are:
+And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Take that, thou likeness of this railer here.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony.
+
+CLARENCE:
+And there's for twitting me with perjury.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+O, kill me too!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Marry, and shall.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done too much.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Why should she live, to fill the world with words?
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+What, doth she swoon? use means for her recovery.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;
+I'll hence to London on a serious matter:
+Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
+
+CLARENCE:
+What? what?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+The Tower, the Tower.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!
+Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!
+They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all,
+Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
+If this foul deed were by to equal it:
+He was a man; this, in respect, a child:
+And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
+What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
+No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speak:
+And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
+Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!
+How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
+You have no children, butchers! if you had,
+The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse:
+But if you ever chance to have a child,
+Look in his youth to have him so cut off
+As, deathmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here,
+Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death:
+What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it thou.
+
+CLARENCE:
+By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.
+
+CLARENCE:
+Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself:
+'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.
+What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher,
+Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
+Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed;
+Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence.
+
+QUEEN MARGARET:
+So come to you and yours, as to this Prince!
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Where's Richard gone?
+
+CLARENCE:
+To London, all in post; and, as I guess,
+To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
+Now march we hence: discharge the common sort
+With pay and thanks, and let's away to London
+And see our gentle queen how well she fares:
+By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Ay, my good lord:--my lord, I should say rather;
+'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better:
+'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike,
+And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.'
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;
+So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece
+And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
+What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
+The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+The bird that hath been limed in a bush,
+With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;
+And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
+Have now the fatal object in my eye
+Where my poor young was limed, was caught and kill'd.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
+That taught his son the office of a fowl!
+An yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
+Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
+The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy
+Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea
+Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
+Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
+My breast can better brook thy dagger's point
+Than can my ears that tragic history.
+But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life?
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Think'st thou I am an executioner?
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+A persecutor, I am sure, thou art:
+If murdering innocents be executing,
+Why, then thou art an executioner.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume,
+Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine.
+And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand,
+Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,
+And many an old man's sigh and many a widow's,
+And many an orphan's water-standing eye--
+Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,
+And orphans for their parents timeless death--
+Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
+The owl shriek'd at thy birth,--an evil sign;
+The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
+Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees;
+The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
+And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
+Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
+And, yet brought forth less than a mother's hope,
+To wit, an indigested and deformed lump,
+Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
+Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,
+To signify thou camest to bite the world:
+And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
+Thou camest--
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+I'll hear no more: die, prophet in thy speech:
+For this amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
+
+KING HENRY VI:
+Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
+God forgive my sins, and pardon thee!
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
+Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
+See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
+O, may such purple tears be alway shed
+From those that wish the downfall of our house!
+If any spark of life be yet remaining,
+Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither:
+I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
+Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of;
+For I have often heard my mother say
+I came into the world with my legs forward:
+Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
+And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
+The midwife wonder'd and the women cried
+'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!'
+And so I was; which plainly signified
+That I should snarl and bite and play the dog.
+Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so,
+Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
+I have no brother, I am like no brother;
+And this word 'love,' which graybeards call divine,
+Be resident in men like one another
+And not in me: I am myself alone.
+Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light:
+But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;
+For I will buz abroad such prophecies
+That Edward shall be fearful of his life,
+And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
+King Henry and the prince his son are gone:
+Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,
+Counting myself but bad till I be best.
+I'll throw thy body in another room
+And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
+3 KING HENRY VI
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Once more we sit in England's royal throne,
+Re-purchased with the blood of enemies.
+What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn,
+Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride!
+Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
+For hardy and undoubted champions;
+Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
+And two Northumberlands; two braver men
+Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound;
+With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,
+That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion
+And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
+Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat
+And made our footstool of security.
+Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.
+Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
+Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night,
+Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
+That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace;
+And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen;
+And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.
+
+CLARENCE:
+The duty that I owe unto your majesty
+I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.
+
+QUEEN ELIZABETH:
+Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.
+
+GLOUCESTER:
+And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,
+Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Now am I seated as my soul delights,
+Having my country's peace and brothers' loves.
+
+CLARENCE:
+What will your grace have done with Margaret?
+Reignier, her father, to the king of France
+Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
+And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
+
+KING EDWARD IV:
+Away with her, and waft her hence to France.
+And now what rests but that we spend the time
+With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
+Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
+Sound drums and trumpets! farewell sour annoy!
+For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
+
+ARCHIDAMUS:
+If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on
+the like occasion whereon my services are now on
+foot, you shall see, as I have said, great
+difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I think, this coming summer, the King of Sicilia
+means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.
+
+ARCHIDAMUS:
+Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be
+justified in our loves; for indeed--
+
+CAMILLO:
+Beseech you,--
+
+ARCHIDAMUS:
+Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge:
+we cannot with such magnificence--in so rare--I know
+not what to say. We will give you sleepy drinks,
+that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience,
+may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse
+us.
+
+CAMILLO:
+You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely.
+
+ARCHIDAMUS:
+Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me
+and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia.
+They were trained together in their childhoods; and
+there rooted betwixt them then such an affection,
+which cannot choose but branch now. Since their
+more mature dignities and royal necessities made
+separation of their society, their encounters,
+though not personal, have been royally attorneyed
+with interchange of gifts, letters, loving
+embassies; that they have seemed to be together,
+though absent, shook hands, as over a vast, and
+embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed
+winds. The heavens continue their loves!
+
+ARCHIDAMUS:
+I think there is not in the world either malice or
+matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable
+comfort of your young prince Mamillius: it is a
+gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came
+into my note.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: it
+is a gallant child; one that indeed physics the
+subject, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on
+crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to
+see him a man.
+
+ARCHIDAMUS:
+Would they else be content to die?
+
+CAMILLO:
+Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should
+desire to live.
+
+ARCHIDAMUS:
+If the king had no son, they would desire to live
+on crutches till he had one.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Nine changes of the watery star hath been
+The shepherd's note since we have left our throne
+Without a burthen: time as long again
+Would be find up, my brother, with our thanks;
+And yet we should, for perpetuity,
+Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher,
+Yet standing in rich place, I multiply
+With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe
+That go before it.
+
+LEONTES:
+Stay your thanks a while;
+And pay them when you part.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Sir, that's to-morrow.
+I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance
+Or breed upon our absence; that may blow
+No sneaping winds at home, to make us say
+'This is put forth too truly:' besides, I have stay'd
+To tire your royalty.
+
+LEONTES:
+We are tougher, brother,
+Than you can put us to't.
+
+POLIXENES:
+No longer stay.
+
+LEONTES:
+One seven-night longer.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Very sooth, to-morrow.
+
+LEONTES:
+We'll part the time between's then; and in that
+I'll no gainsaying.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Press me not, beseech you, so.
+There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world,
+So soon as yours could win me: so it should now,
+Were there necessity in your request, although
+'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs
+Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder
+Were in your love a whip to me; my stay
+To you a charge and trouble: to save both,
+Farewell, our brother.
+
+LEONTES:
+Tongue-tied, our queen?
+speak you.
+
+HERMIONE:
+I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until
+You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir,
+Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure
+All in Bohemia's well; this satisfaction
+The by-gone day proclaim'd: say this to him,
+He's beat from his best ward.
+
+LEONTES:
+Well said, Hermione.
+
+HERMIONE:
+To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong:
+But let him say so then, and let him go;
+But let him swear so, and he shall not stay,
+We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.
+Yet of your royal presence I'll adventure
+The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
+You take my lord, I'll give him my commission
+To let him there a month behind the gest
+Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,
+I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind
+What lady-she her lord. You'll stay?
+
+POLIXENES:
+No, madam.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Nay, but you will?
+
+POLIXENES:
+I may not, verily.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Verily!
+You put me off with limber vows; but I,
+Though you would seek to unsphere the
+stars with oaths,
+Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily,
+You shall not go: a lady's 'Verily' 's
+As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet?
+Force me to keep you as a prisoner,
+Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees
+When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you?
+My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread 'Verily,'
+One of them you shall be.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Your guest, then, madam:
+To be your prisoner should import offending;
+Which is for me less easy to commit
+Than you to punish.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Not your gaoler, then,
+But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you
+Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys:
+You were pretty lordings then?
+
+POLIXENES:
+We were, fair queen,
+Two lads that thought there was no more behind
+But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
+And to be boy eternal.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Was not my lord
+The verier wag o' the two?
+
+POLIXENES:
+We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun,
+And bleat the one at the other: what we changed
+Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
+The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd
+That any did. Had we pursued that life,
+And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
+With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven
+Boldly 'not guilty;' the imposition clear'd
+Hereditary ours.
+
+HERMIONE:
+By this we gather
+You have tripp'd since.
+
+POLIXENES:
+O my most sacred lady!
+Temptations have since then been born to's; for
+In those unfledged days was my wife a girl;
+Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes
+Of my young play-fellow.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Grace to boot!
+Of this make no conclusion, lest you say
+Your queen and I are devils: yet go on;
+The offences we have made you do we'll answer,
+If you first sinn'd with us and that with us
+You did continue fault and that you slipp'd not
+With any but with us.
+
+LEONTES:
+Is he won yet?
+
+HERMIONE:
+He'll stay my lord.
+
+LEONTES:
+At my request he would not.
+Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest
+To better purpose.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Never?
+
+LEONTES:
+Never, but once.
+
+HERMIONE:
+What! have I twice said well? when was't before?
+I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's
+As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless
+Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that.
+Our praises are our wages: you may ride's
+With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere
+With spur we beat an acre. But to the goal:
+My last good deed was to entreat his stay:
+What was my first? it has an elder sister,
+Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace!
+But once before I spoke to the purpose: when?
+Nay, let me have't; I long.
+
+LEONTES:
+Why, that was when
+Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,
+Ere I could make thee open thy white hand
+And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter
+'I am yours for ever.'
+
+HERMIONE:
+'Tis grace indeed.
+Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice:
+The one for ever earn'd a royal husband;
+The other for some while a friend.
+
+LEONTES:
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+Ay, my good lord.
+
+LEONTES:
+I' fecks!
+Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast
+smutch'd thy nose?
+They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain,
+We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain:
+And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf
+Are all call'd neat.--Still virginalling
+Upon his palm!--How now, you wanton calf!
+Art thou my calf?
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+Yes, if you will, my lord.
+
+LEONTES:
+Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have,
+To be full like me: yet they say we are
+Almost as like as eggs; women say so,
+That will say anything but were they false
+As o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false
+As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes
+No bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it true
+To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page,
+Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain!
+Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?--may't be?--
+Affection! thy intention stabs the centre:
+Thou dost make possible things not so held,
+Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?--
+With what's unreal thou coactive art,
+And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent
+Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost,
+And that beyond commission, and I find it,
+And that to the infection of my brains
+And hardening of my brows.
+
+POLIXENES:
+What means Sicilia?
+
+HERMIONE:
+He something seems unsettled.
+
+POLIXENES:
+How, my lord!
+What cheer? how is't with you, best brother?
+
+HERMIONE:
+You look as if you held a brow of much distraction
+Are you moved, my lord?
+
+LEONTES:
+No, in good earnest.
+How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
+Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime
+To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines
+Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil
+Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd,
+In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled,
+Lest it should bite its master, and so prove,
+As ornaments oft do, too dangerous:
+How like, methought, I then was to this kernel,
+This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend,
+Will you take eggs for money?
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+No, my lord, I'll fight.
+
+LEONTES:
+You will! why, happy man be's dole! My brother,
+Are you so fond of your young prince as we
+Do seem to be of ours?
+
+POLIXENES:
+If at home, sir,
+He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter,
+Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy,
+My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
+He makes a July's day short as December,
+And with his varying childness cures in me
+Thoughts that would thick my blood.
+
+LEONTES:
+So stands this squire
+Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord,
+And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione,
+How thou lovest us, show in our brother's welcome;
+Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap:
+Next to thyself and my young rover, he's
+Apparent to my heart.
+
+HERMIONE:
+If you would seek us,
+We are yours i' the garden: shall's attend you there?
+
+LEONTES:
+To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found,
+Be you beneath the sky.
+I am angling now,
+Though you perceive me not how I give line.
+Go to, go to!
+How she holds up the neb, the bill to him!
+And arms her with the boldness of a wife
+To her allowing husband!
+Gone already!
+Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and
+ears a fork'd one!
+Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I
+Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue
+Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour
+Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play.
+There have been,
+Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now;
+And many a man there is, even at this present,
+Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm,
+That little thinks she has been sluiced in's absence
+And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by
+Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in't
+Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd,
+As mine, against their will. Should all despair
+That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind
+Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none;
+It is a bawdy planet, that will strike
+Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it,
+From east, west, north and south: be it concluded,
+No barricado for a belly; know't;
+It will let in and out the enemy
+With bag and baggage: many thousand on's
+Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy!
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+I am like you, they say.
+
+LEONTES:
+Why that's some comfort. What, Camillo there?
+
+CAMILLO:
+Ay, my good lord.
+
+LEONTES:
+Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man.
+Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.
+
+CAMILLO:
+You had much ado to make his anchor hold:
+When you cast out, it still came home.
+
+LEONTES:
+Didst note it?
+
+CAMILLO:
+He would not stay at your petitions: made
+His business more material.
+
+LEONTES:
+Didst perceive it?
+They're here with me already, whispering, rounding
+'Sicilia is a so-forth:' 'tis far gone,
+When I shall gust it last. How came't, Camillo,
+That he did stay?
+
+CAMILLO:
+At the good queen's entreaty.
+
+LEONTES:
+At the queen's be't: 'good' should be pertinent
+But, so it is, it is not. Was this taken
+By any understanding pate but thine?
+For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in
+More than the common blocks: not noted, is't,
+But of the finer natures? by some severals
+Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes
+Perchance are to this business purblind? say.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Business, my lord! I think most understand
+Bohemia stays here longer.
+
+LEONTES:
+Ha!
+
+CAMILLO:
+Stays here longer.
+
+LEONTES:
+Ay, but why?
+
+CAMILLO:
+To satisfy your highness and the entreaties
+Of our most gracious mistress.
+
+LEONTES:
+Satisfy!
+The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy!
+Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo,
+With all the nearest things to my heart, as well
+My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou
+Hast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed
+Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been
+Deceived in thy integrity, deceived
+In that which seems so.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Be it forbid, my lord!
+
+LEONTES:
+To bide upon't, thou art not honest, or,
+If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward,
+Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining
+From course required; or else thou must be counted
+A servant grafted in my serious trust
+And therein negligent; or else a fool
+That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn,
+And takest it all for jest.
+
+CAMILLO:
+My gracious lord,
+I may be negligent, foolish and fearful;
+In every one of these no man is free,
+But that his negligence, his folly, fear,
+Among the infinite doings of the world,
+Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord,
+If ever I were wilful-negligent,
+It was my folly; if industriously
+I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
+Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful
+To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
+Where of the execution did cry out
+Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
+Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord,
+Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty
+Is never free of. But, beseech your grace,
+Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass
+By its own visage: if I then deny it,
+'Tis none of mine.
+
+LEONTES:
+Ha' not you seen, Camillo,--
+But that's past doubt, you have, or your eye-glass
+Is thicker than a cuckold's horn,--or heard,--
+For to a vision so apparent rumour
+Cannot be mute,--or thought,--for cogitation
+Resides not in that man that does not think,--
+My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess,
+Or else be impudently negative,
+To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say
+My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name
+As rank as any flax-wench that puts to
+Before her troth-plight: say't and justify't.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I would not be a stander-by to hear
+My sovereign mistress clouded so, without
+My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart,
+You never spoke what did become you less
+Than this; which to reiterate were sin
+As deep as that, though true.
+
+LEONTES:
+Is whispering nothing?
+Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
+Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
+Of laughing with a sigh?--a note infallible
+Of breaking honesty--horsing foot on foot?
+Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
+Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes
+Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only,
+That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing?
+Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing;
+The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;
+My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,
+If this be nothing.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Good my lord, be cured
+Of this diseased opinion, and betimes;
+For 'tis most dangerous.
+
+LEONTES:
+Say it be, 'tis true.
+
+CAMILLO:
+No, no, my lord.
+
+LEONTES:
+It is; you lie, you lie:
+I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee,
+Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave,
+Or else a hovering temporizer, that
+Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil,
+Inclining to them both: were my wife's liver
+Infected as her life, she would not live
+The running of one glass.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Who does infect her?
+
+LEONTES:
+Why, he that wears her like a medal, hanging
+About his neck, Bohemia: who, if I
+Had servants true about me, that bare eyes
+To see alike mine honour as their profits,
+Their own particular thrifts, they would do that
+Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou,
+His cupbearer,--whom I from meaner form
+Have benched and reared to worship, who mayst see
+Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven,
+How I am galled,--mightst bespice a cup,
+To give mine enemy a lasting wink;
+Which draught to me were cordial.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Sir, my lord,
+I could do this, and that with no rash potion,
+But with a lingering dram that should not work
+Maliciously like poison: but I cannot
+Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
+So sovereignly being honourable.
+I have loved thee,--
+
+LEONTES:
+Make that thy question, and go rot!
+Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled,
+To appoint myself in this vexation, sully
+The purity and whiteness of my sheets,
+Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted
+Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps,
+Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son,
+Who I do think is mine and love as mine,
+Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this?
+Could man so blench?
+
+CAMILLO:
+I must believe you, sir:
+I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't;
+Provided that, when he's removed, your highness
+Will take again your queen as yours at first,
+Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing
+The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms
+Known and allied to yours.
+
+LEONTES:
+Thou dost advise me
+Even so as I mine own course have set down:
+I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.
+
+CAMILLO:
+My lord,
+Go then; and with a countenance as clear
+As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia
+And with your queen. I am his cupbearer:
+If from me he have wholesome beverage,
+Account me not your servant.
+
+LEONTES:
+This is all:
+Do't and thou hast the one half of my heart;
+Do't not, thou split'st thine own.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I'll do't, my lord.
+
+LEONTES:
+I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me.
+
+CAMILLO:
+O miserable lady! But, for me,
+What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner
+Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do't
+Is the obedience to a master, one
+Who in rebellion with himself will have
+All that are his so too. To do this deed,
+Promotion follows. If I could find example
+Of thousands that had struck anointed kings
+And flourish'd after, I'ld not do't; but since
+Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one,
+Let villany itself forswear't. I must
+Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain
+To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now!
+Here comes Bohemia.
+
+POLIXENES:
+This is strange: methinks
+My favour here begins to warp. Not speak?
+Good day, Camillo.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Hail, most royal sir!
+
+POLIXENES:
+What is the news i' the court?
+
+CAMILLO:
+None rare, my lord.
+
+POLIXENES:
+The king hath on him such a countenance
+As he had lost some province and a region
+Loved as he loves himself: even now I met him
+With customary compliment; when he,
+Wafting his eyes to the contrary and falling
+A lip of much contempt, speeds from me and
+So leaves me to consider what is breeding
+That changeth thus his manners.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I dare not know, my lord.
+
+POLIXENES:
+How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not?
+Be intelligent to me: 'tis thereabouts;
+For, to yourself, what you do know, you must.
+And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo,
+Your changed complexions are to me a mirror
+Which shows me mine changed too; for I must be
+A party in this alteration, finding
+Myself thus alter'd with 't.
+
+CAMILLO:
+There is a sickness
+Which puts some of us in distemper, but
+I cannot name the disease; and it is caught
+Of you that yet are well.
+
+POLIXENES:
+How! caught of me!
+Make me not sighted like the basilisk:
+I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better
+By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,--
+As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto
+Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns
+Our gentry than our parents' noble names,
+In whose success we are gentle,--I beseech you,
+If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
+Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not
+In ignorant concealment.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I may not answer.
+
+POLIXENES:
+A sickness caught of me, and yet I well!
+I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo,
+I conjure thee, by all the parts of man
+Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least
+Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare
+What incidency thou dost guess of harm
+Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near;
+Which way to be prevented, if to be;
+If not, how best to bear it.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Sir, I will tell you;
+Since I am charged in honour and by him
+That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel,
+Which must be even as swiftly follow'd as
+I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me
+Cry lost, and so good night!
+
+POLIXENES:
+On, good Camillo.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I am appointed him to murder you.
+
+POLIXENES:
+By whom, Camillo?
+
+CAMILLO:
+By the king.
+
+POLIXENES:
+For what?
+
+CAMILLO:
+He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears,
+As he had seen't or been an instrument
+To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queen
+Forbiddenly.
+
+POLIXENES:
+O, then my best blood turn
+To an infected jelly and my name
+Be yoked with his that did betray the Best!
+Turn then my freshest reputation to
+A savour that may strike the dullest nostril
+Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd,
+Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection
+That e'er was heard or read!
+
+CAMILLO:
+Swear his thought over
+By each particular star in heaven and
+By all their influences, you may as well
+Forbid the sea for to obey the moon
+As or by oath remove or counsel shake
+The fabric of his folly, whose foundation
+Is piled upon his faith and will continue
+The standing of his body.
+
+POLIXENES:
+How should this grow?
+
+CAMILLO:
+I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to
+Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born.
+If therefore you dare trust my honesty,
+That lies enclosed in this trunk which you
+Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night!
+Your followers I will whisper to the business,
+And will by twos and threes at several posterns
+Clear them o' the city. For myself, I'll put
+My fortunes to your service, which are here
+By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain;
+For, by the honour of my parents, I
+Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove,
+I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer
+Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon
+His execution sworn.
+
+POLIXENES:
+I do believe thee:
+I saw his heart in 's face. Give me thy hand:
+Be pilot to me and thy places shall
+Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and
+My people did expect my hence departure
+Two days ago. This jealousy
+Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,
+Must it be great, and as his person's mighty,
+Must it be violent, and as he does conceive
+He is dishonour'd by a man which ever
+Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must
+In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me:
+Good expedition be my friend, and comfort
+The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing
+Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo;
+I will respect thee as a father if
+Thou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid.
+
+CAMILLO:
+It is in mine authority to command
+The keys of all the posterns: please your highness
+To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Take the boy to you: he so troubles me,
+'Tis past enduring.
+
+First Lady:
+Come, my gracious lord,
+Shall I be your playfellow?
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+No, I'll none of you.
+
+First Lady:
+Why, my sweet lord?
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if
+I were a baby still. I love you better.
+
+Second Lady:
+And why so, my lord?
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+Not for because
+Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say,
+Become some women best, so that there be not
+Too much hair there, but in a semicircle
+Or a half-moon made with a pen.
+
+Second Lady:
+Who taught you this?
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+I learnt it out of women's faces. Pray now
+What colour are your eyebrows?
+
+First Lady:
+Blue, my lord.
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose
+That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.
+
+First Lady:
+Hark ye;
+The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall
+Present our services to a fine new prince
+One of these days; and then you'ld wanton with us,
+If we would have you.
+
+Second Lady:
+She is spread of late
+Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her!
+
+HERMIONE:
+What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now
+I am for you again: pray you, sit by us,
+And tell 's a tale.
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+Merry or sad shall't be?
+
+HERMIONE:
+As merry as you will.
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+A sad tale's best for winter: I have one
+Of sprites and goblins.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Let's have that, good sir.
+Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best
+To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it.
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+There was a man--
+
+HERMIONE:
+Nay, come, sit down; then on.
+
+MAMILLIUS:
+Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly;
+Yond crickets shall not hear it.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Come on, then,
+And give't me in mine ear.
+
+LEONTES:
+Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him?
+
+First Lord:
+Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never
+Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them
+Even to their ships.
+
+LEONTES:
+How blest am I
+In my just censure, in my true opinion!
+Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed
+In being so blest! There may be in the cup
+A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
+And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge
+Is not infected: but if one present
+The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
+How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
+With violent hefts. I have drunk,
+and seen the spider.
+Camillo was his help in this, his pander:
+There is a plot against my life, my crown;
+All's true that is mistrusted: that false villain
+Whom I employ'd was pre-employ'd by him:
+He has discover'd my design, and I
+Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick
+For them to play at will. How came the posterns
+So easily open?
+
+First Lord:
+By his great authority;
+Which often hath no less prevail'd than so
+On your command.
+
+LEONTES:
+I know't too well.
+Give me the boy: I am glad you did not nurse him:
+Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you
+Have too much blood in him.
+
+HERMIONE:
+What is this? sport?
+
+LEONTES:
+Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her;
+Away with him! and let her sport herself
+With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes
+Has made thee swell thus.
+
+HERMIONE:
+But I'ld say he had not,
+And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying,
+Howe'er you lean to the nayward.
+
+LEONTES:
+You, my lords,
+Look on her, mark her well; be but about
+To say 'she is a goodly lady,' and
+The justice of your bearts will thereto add
+'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:'
+Praise her but for this her without-door form,
+Which on my faith deserves high speech, and straight
+The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands
+That calumny doth use--O, I am out--
+That mercy does, for calumny will sear
+Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and ha's,
+When you have said 'she's goodly,' come between
+Ere you can say 'she's honest:' but be 't known,
+From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,
+She's an adulteress.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Should a villain say so,
+The most replenish'd villain in the world,
+He were as much more villain: you, my lord,
+Do but mistake.
+
+LEONTES:
+You have mistook, my lady,
+Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing!
+Which I'll not call a creature of thy place,
+Lest barbarism, making me the precedent,
+Should a like language use to all degrees
+And mannerly distinguishment leave out
+Betwixt the prince and beggar: I have said
+She's an adulteress; I have said with whom:
+More, she's a traitor and Camillo is
+A federary with her, and one that knows
+What she should shame to know herself
+But with her most vile principal, that she's
+A bed-swerver, even as bad as those
+That vulgars give bold'st titles, ay, and privy
+To this their late escape.
+
+HERMIONE:
+No, by my life.
+Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you,
+When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that
+You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord,
+You scarce can right me throughly then to say
+You did mistake.
+
+LEONTES:
+No; if I mistake
+In those foundations which I build upon,
+The centre is not big enough to bear
+A school-boy's top. Away with her! to prison!
+He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty
+But that he speaks.
+
+HERMIONE:
+There's some ill planet reigns:
+I must be patient till the heavens look
+With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,
+I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
+Commonly are; the want of which vain dew
+Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have
+That honourable grief lodged here which burns
+Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,
+With thoughts so qualified as your charities
+Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so
+The king's will be perform'd!
+
+LEONTES:
+Shall I be heard?
+
+HERMIONE:
+Who is't that goes with me? Beseech your highness,
+My women may be with me; for you see
+My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools;
+There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress
+Has deserved prison, then abound in tears
+As I come out: this action I now go on
+Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord:
+I never wish'd to see you sorry; now
+I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave.
+
+LEONTES:
+Go, do our bidding; hence!
+
+First Lord:
+Beseech your highness, call the queen again.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice
+Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer,
+Yourself, your queen, your son.
+
+First Lord:
+For her, my lord,
+I dare my life lay down and will do't, sir,
+Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless
+I' the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean,
+In this which you accuse her.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+If it prove
+She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where
+I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her;
+Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her;
+For every inch of woman in the world,
+Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, If she be.
+
+LEONTES:
+Hold your peaces.
+
+First Lord:
+Good my lord,--
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+It is for you we speak, not for ourselves:
+You are abused and by some putter-on
+That will be damn'd for't; would I knew the villain,
+I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd,
+I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven
+The second and the third, nine, and some five;
+If this prove true, they'll pay for't:
+by mine honour,
+I'll geld 'em all; fourteen they shall not see,
+To bring false generations: they are co-heirs;
+And I had rather glib myself than they
+Should not produce fair issue.
+
+LEONTES:
+Cease; no more.
+You smell this business with a sense as cold
+As is a dead man's nose: but I do see't and feel't
+As you feel doing thus; and see withal
+The instruments that feel.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+If it be so,
+We need no grave to bury honesty:
+There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten
+Of the whole dungy earth.
+
+LEONTES:
+What! lack I credit?
+
+First Lord:
+I had rather you did lack than I, my lord,
+Upon this ground; and more it would content me
+To have her honour true than your suspicion,
+Be blamed for't how you might.
+
+LEONTES:
+Why, what need we
+Commune with you of this, but rather follow
+Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative
+Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness
+Imparts this; which if you, or stupefied
+Or seeming so in skill, cannot or will not
+Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves
+We need no more of your advice: the matter,
+The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all
+Properly ours.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+And I wish, my liege,
+You had only in your silent judgment tried it,
+Without more overture.
+
+LEONTES:
+How could that be?
+Either thou art most ignorant by age,
+Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight,
+Added to their familiarity,
+Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture,
+That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation
+But only seeing, all other circumstances
+Made up to the deed, doth push on this proceeding:
+Yet, for a greater confirmation,
+For in an act of this importance 'twere
+Most piteous to be wild, I have dispatch'd in post
+To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple,
+Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know
+Of stuff'd sufficiency: now from the oracle
+They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had,
+Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well?
+
+First Lord:
+Well done, my lord.
+
+LEONTES:
+Though I am satisfied and need no more
+Than what I know, yet shall the oracle
+Give rest to the minds of others, such as he
+Whose ignorant credulity will not
+Come up to the truth. So have we thought it good
+From our free person she should be confined,
+Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence
+Be left her to perform. Come, follow us;
+We are to speak in public; for this business
+Will raise us all.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+
+PAULINA:
+The keeper of the prison, call to him;
+let him have knowledge who I am.
+Good lady,
+No court in Europe is too good for thee;
+What dost thou then in prison?
+Now, good sir,
+You know me, do you not?
+
+Gaoler:
+For a worthy lady
+And one whom much I honour.
+
+PAULINA:
+Pray you then,
+Conduct me to the queen.
+
+Gaoler:
+I may not, madam:
+To the contrary I have express commandment.
+
+PAULINA:
+Here's ado,
+To lock up honesty and honour from
+The access of gentle visitors!
+Is't lawful, pray you,
+To see her women? any of them? Emilia?
+
+Gaoler:
+So please you, madam,
+To put apart these your attendants, I
+Shall bring Emilia forth.
+
+PAULINA:
+I pray now, call her.
+Withdraw yourselves.
+
+Gaoler:
+And, madam,
+I must be present at your conference.
+
+PAULINA:
+Well, be't so, prithee.
+Here's such ado to make no stain a stain
+As passes colouring.
+Dear gentlewoman,
+How fares our gracious lady?
+
+EMILIA:
+As well as one so great and so forlorn
+May hold together: on her frights and griefs,
+Which never tender lady hath born greater,
+She is something before her time deliver'd.
+
+PAULINA:
+A boy?
+
+EMILIA:
+A daughter, and a goodly babe,
+Lusty and like to live: the queen receives
+Much comfort in't; says 'My poor prisoner,
+I am innocent as you.'
+
+PAULINA:
+I dare be sworn
+These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king,
+beshrew them!
+He must be told on't, and he shall: the office
+Becomes a woman best; I'll take't upon me:
+If I prove honey-mouth'd let my tongue blister
+And never to my red-look'd anger be
+The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia,
+Commend my best obedience to the queen:
+If she dares trust me with her little babe,
+I'll show't the king and undertake to be
+Her advocate to the loud'st. We do not know
+How he may soften at the sight o' the child:
+The silence often of pure innocence
+Persuades when speaking fails.
+
+EMILIA:
+Most worthy madam,
+Your honour and your goodness is so evident
+That your free undertaking cannot miss
+A thriving issue: there is no lady living
+So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship
+To visit the next room, I'll presently
+Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer;
+Who but to-day hammer'd of this design,
+But durst not tempt a minister of honour,
+Lest she should be denied.
+
+PAULINA:
+Tell her, Emilia.
+I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from't
+As boldness from my bosom, let 't not be doubted
+I shall do good.
+
+EMILIA:
+Now be you blest for it!
+I'll to the queen: please you,
+come something nearer.
+
+Gaoler:
+Madam, if't please the queen to send the babe,
+I know not what I shall incur to pass it,
+Having no warrant.
+
+PAULINA:
+You need not fear it, sir:
+This child was prisoner to the womb and is
+By law and process of great nature thence
+Freed and enfranchised, not a party to
+The anger of the king nor guilty of,
+If any be, the trespass of the queen.
+
+Gaoler:
+I do believe it.
+
+PAULINA:
+Do not you fear: upon mine honour,
+I will stand betwixt you and danger.
+
+LEONTES:
+Nor night nor day no rest: it is but weakness
+To bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If
+The cause were not in being,--part o' the cause,
+She the adulteress; for the harlot king
+Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank
+And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she
+I can hook to me: say that she were gone,
+Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest
+Might come to me again. Who's there?
+
+First Servant:
+My lord?
+
+LEONTES:
+How does the boy?
+
+First Servant:
+He took good rest to-night;
+'Tis hoped his sickness is discharged.
+
+LEONTES:
+To see his nobleness!
+Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,
+He straight declined, droop'd, took it deeply,
+Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself,
+Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,
+And downright languish'd. Leave me solely: go,
+See how he fares.
+Fie, fie! no thought of him:
+The thought of my revenges that way
+Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty,
+And in his parties, his alliance; let him be
+Until a time may serve: for present vengeance,
+Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes
+Laugh at me, make their pastime at my sorrow:
+They should not laugh if I could reach them, nor
+Shall she within my power.
+
+First Lord:
+You must not enter.
+
+PAULINA:
+Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me:
+Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,
+Than the queen's life? a gracious innocent soul,
+More free than he is jealous.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+That's enough.
+
+Second Servant:
+Madam, he hath not slept tonight; commanded
+None should come at him.
+
+PAULINA:
+Not so hot, good sir:
+I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you,
+That creep like shadows by him and do sigh
+At each his needless heavings, such as you
+Nourish the cause of his awaking: I
+Do come with words as medicinal as true,
+Honest as either, to purge him of that humour
+That presses him from sleep.
+
+LEONTES:
+What noise there, ho?
+
+PAULINA:
+No noise, my lord; but needful conference
+About some gossips for your highness.
+
+LEONTES:
+How!
+Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus,
+I charged thee that she should not come about me:
+I knew she would.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+I told her so, my lord,
+On your displeasure's peril and on mine,
+She should not visit you.
+
+LEONTES:
+What, canst not rule her?
+
+PAULINA:
+From all dishonesty he can: in this,
+Unless he take the course that you have done,
+Commit me for committing honour, trust it,
+He shall not rule me.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+La you now, you hear:
+When she will take the rein I let her run;
+But she'll not stumble.
+
+PAULINA:
+Good my liege, I come;
+And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess
+Myself your loyal servant, your physician,
+Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dare
+Less appear so in comforting your evils,
+Than such as most seem yours: I say, I come
+From your good queen.
+
+LEONTES:
+Good queen!
+
+PAULINA:
+Good queen, my lord,
+Good queen; I say good queen;
+And would by combat make her good, so were I
+A man, the worst about you.
+
+LEONTES:
+Force her hence.
+
+PAULINA:
+Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes
+First hand me: on mine own accord I'll off;
+But first I'll do my errand. The good queen,
+For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter;
+Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing.
+
+LEONTES:
+Out!
+A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door:
+A most intelligencing bawd!
+
+PAULINA:
+Not so:
+I am as ignorant in that as you
+In so entitling me, and no less honest
+Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant,
+As this world goes, to pass for honest.
+
+LEONTES:
+Traitors!
+Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard.
+Thou dotard! thou art woman-tired, unroosted
+By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard;
+Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone.
+
+PAULINA:
+For ever
+Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
+Takest up the princess by that forced baseness
+Which he has put upon't!
+
+LEONTES:
+He dreads his wife.
+
+PAULINA:
+So I would you did; then 'twere past all doubt
+You'ld call your children yours.
+
+LEONTES:
+A nest of traitors!
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+I am none, by this good light.
+
+PAULINA:
+Nor I, nor any
+But one that's here, and that's himself, for he
+The sacred honour of himself, his queen's,
+His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander,
+Whose sting is sharper than the sword's;
+and will not--
+For, as the case now stands, it is a curse
+He cannot be compell'd to't--once remove
+The root of his opinion, which is rotten
+As ever oak or stone was sound.
+
+LEONTES:
+A callat
+Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband
+And now baits me! This brat is none of mine;
+It is the issue of Polixenes:
+Hence with it, and together with the dam
+Commit them to the fire!
+
+PAULINA:
+It is yours;
+And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge,
+So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords,
+Although the print be little, the whole matter
+And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip,
+The trick of's frown, his forehead, nay, the valley,
+The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek,
+His smiles,
+The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:
+And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it
+So like to him that got it, if thou hast
+The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours
+No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does,
+Her children not her husband's!
+
+LEONTES:
+A gross hag
+And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd,
+That wilt not stay her tongue.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+Hang all the husbands
+That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
+Hardly one subject.
+
+LEONTES:
+Once more, take her hence.
+
+PAULINA:
+A most unworthy and unnatural lord
+Can do no more.
+
+LEONTES:
+I'll ha' thee burnt.
+
+PAULINA:
+I care not:
+It is an heretic that makes the fire,
+Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant;
+But this most cruel usage of your queen,
+Not able to produce more accusation
+Than your own weak-hinged fancy, something savours
+Of tyranny and will ignoble make you,
+Yea, scandalous to the world.
+
+LEONTES:
+On your allegiance,
+Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant,
+Where were her life? she durst not call me so,
+If she did know me one. Away with her!
+
+PAULINA:
+I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone.
+Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours:
+Jove send her
+A better guiding spirit! What needs these hands?
+You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies,
+Will never do him good, not one of you.
+So, so: farewell; we are gone.
+
+LEONTES:
+Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this.
+My child? away with't! Even thou, that hast
+A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence
+And see it instantly consumed with fire;
+Even thou and none but thou. Take it up straight:
+Within this hour bring me word 'tis done,
+And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life,
+With what thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse
+And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so;
+The bastard brains with these my proper hands
+Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire;
+For thou set'st on thy wife.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+I did not, sir:
+These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
+Can clear me in't.
+
+Lords:
+We can: my royal liege,
+He is not guilty of her coming hither.
+
+LEONTES:
+You're liars all.
+
+First Lord:
+Beseech your highness, give us better credit:
+We have always truly served you, and beseech you
+So to esteem of us, and on our knees we beg,
+As recompense of our dear services
+Past and to come, that you do change this purpose,
+Which being so horrible, so bloody, must
+Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel.
+
+LEONTES:
+I am a feather for each wind that blows:
+Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel
+And call me father? better burn it now
+Than curse it then. But be it; let it live.
+It shall not neither. You, sir, come you hither;
+You that have been so tenderly officious
+With Lady Margery, your midwife there,
+To save this bastard's life,--for 'tis a bastard,
+So sure as this beard's grey,
+--what will you adventure
+To save this brat's life?
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+Any thing, my lord,
+That my ability may undergo
+And nobleness impose: at least thus much:
+I'll pawn the little blood which I have left
+To save the innocent: any thing possible.
+
+LEONTES:
+It shall be possible. Swear by this sword
+Thou wilt perform my bidding.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+I will, my lord.
+
+LEONTES:
+Mark and perform it, see'st thou! for the fail
+Of any point in't shall not only be
+Death to thyself but to thy lewd-tongued wife,
+Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee,
+As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carry
+This female bastard hence and that thou bear it
+To some remote and desert place quite out
+Of our dominions, and that there thou leave it,
+Without more mercy, to its own protection
+And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune
+It came to us, I do in justice charge thee,
+On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture,
+That thou commend it strangely to some place
+Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+I swear to do this, though a present death
+Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe:
+Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens
+To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say
+Casting their savageness aside have done
+Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous
+In more than this deed does require! And blessing
+Against this cruelty fight on thy side,
+Poor thing, condemn'd to loss!
+
+LEONTES:
+No, I'll not rear
+Another's issue.
+
+Servant:
+Please your highness, posts
+From those you sent to the oracle are come
+An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion,
+Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed,
+Hasting to the court.
+
+First Lord:
+So please you, sir, their speed
+Hath been beyond account.
+
+LEONTES:
+Twenty-three days
+They have been absent: 'tis good speed; foretells
+The great Apollo suddenly will have
+The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords;
+Summon a session, that we may arraign
+Our most disloyal lady, for, as she hath
+Been publicly accused, so shall she have
+A just and open trial. While she lives
+My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me,
+And think upon my bidding.
+
+CLEOMENES:
+The climate's delicate, the air most sweet,
+Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing
+The common praise it bears.
+
+DION:
+I shall report,
+For most it caught me, the celestial habits,
+Methinks I so should term them, and the reverence
+Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice!
+How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly
+It was i' the offering!
+
+CLEOMENES:
+But of all, the burst
+And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle,
+Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense.
+That I was nothing.
+
+DION:
+If the event o' the journey
+Prove as successful to the queen,--O be't so!--
+As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy,
+The time is worth the use on't.
+
+CLEOMENES:
+Great Apollo
+Turn all to the best! These proclamations,
+So forcing faults upon Hermione,
+I little like.
+
+DION:
+The violent carriage of it
+Will clear or end the business: when the oracle,
+Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up,
+Shall the contents discover, something rare
+Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh horses!
+And gracious be the issue!
+
+LEONTES:
+This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce,
+Even pushes 'gainst our heart: the party tried
+The daughter of a king, our wife, and one
+Of us too much beloved. Let us be clear'd
+Of being tyrannous, since we so openly
+Proceed in justice, which shall have due course,
+Even to the guilt or the purgation.
+Produce the prisoner.
+
+Officer:
+It is his highness' pleasure that the queen
+Appear in person here in court. Silence!
+
+LEONTES:
+Read the indictment.
+
+Officer:
+
+HERMIONE:
+Since what I am to say must be but that
+Which contradicts my accusation and
+The testimony on my part no other
+But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me
+To say 'not guilty:' mine integrity
+Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it,
+Be so received. But thus: if powers divine
+Behold our human actions, as they do,
+I doubt not then but innocence shall make
+False accusation blush and tyranny
+Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know,
+Who least will seem to do so, my past life
+Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
+As I am now unhappy; which is more
+Than history can pattern, though devised
+And play'd to take spectators. For behold me
+A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
+A moiety of the throne a great king's daughter,
+The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing
+To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore
+Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
+As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour,
+'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
+And only that I stand for. I appeal
+To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
+Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
+How merited to be so; since he came,
+With what encounter so uncurrent I
+Have strain'd to appear thus: if one jot beyond
+The bound of honour, or in act or will
+That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts
+Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
+Cry fie upon my grave!
+
+LEONTES:
+I ne'er heard yet
+That any of these bolder vices wanted
+Less impudence to gainsay what they did
+Than to perform it first.
+
+HERMIONE:
+That's true enough;
+Through 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.
+
+LEONTES:
+You will not own it.
+
+HERMIONE:
+More than mistress of
+Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
+At all acknowledge. For Polixenes,
+With whom I am accused, I do confess
+I loved him as in honour he required,
+With such a kind of love as might become
+A lady like me, with a love even such,
+So and no other, as yourself commanded:
+Which not to have done I think had been in me
+Both disobedience and ingratitude
+To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke,
+Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely
+That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy,
+I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd
+For me to try how: all I know of it
+Is that Camillo was an honest man;
+And why he left your court, the gods themselves,
+Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.
+
+LEONTES:
+You knew of his departure, as you know
+What you have underta'en to do in's absence.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Sir,
+You speak a language that I understand not:
+My life stands in the level of your dreams,
+Which I'll lay down.
+
+LEONTES:
+Your actions are my dreams;
+You had a bastard by Polixenes,
+And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame,--
+Those of your fact are so--so past all truth:
+Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as
+Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself,
+No father owning it,--which is, indeed,
+More criminal in thee than it,--so thou
+Shalt feel our justice, in whose easiest passage
+Look for no less than death.
+
+HERMIONE:
+Sir, spare your threats:
+The bug which you would fright me with I seek.
+To me can life be no commodity:
+The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,
+I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
+But know not how it went. My second joy
+And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
+I am barr'd, like one infectious. My third comfort
+Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
+The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
+Haled out to murder: myself on every post
+Proclaimed a strumpet: with immodest hatred
+The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
+To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried
+Here to this place, i' the open air, before
+I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
+Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
+That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed.
+But yet hear this: mistake me not; no life,
+I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour,
+Which I would free, if I shall be condemn'd
+Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else
+But what your jealousies awake, I tell you
+'Tis rigor and not law. Your honours all,
+I do refer me to the oracle:
+Apollo be my judge!
+
+First Lord:
+This your request
+Is altogether just: therefore bring forth,
+And in Apollos name, his oracle.
+
+HERMIONE:
+The Emperor of Russia was my father:
+O that he were alive, and here beholding
+His daughter's trial! that he did but see
+The flatness of my misery, yet with eyes
+Of pity, not revenge!
+
+Officer:
+You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,
+That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
+Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought
+The seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd
+Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then,
+You have not dared to break the holy seal
+Nor read the secrets in't.
+
+CLEOMENES:
+All this we swear.
+
+LEONTES:
+Break up the seals and read.
+
+Officer:
+
+Lords:
+Now blessed be the great Apollo!
+
+HERMIONE:
+Praised!
+
+LEONTES:
+Hast thou read truth?
+
+Officer:
+Ay, my lord; even so
+As it is here set down.
+
+LEONTES:
+There is no truth at all i' the oracle:
+The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood.
+
+Servant:
+My lord the king, the king!
+
+LEONTES:
+What is the business?
+
+Servant:
+O sir, I shall be hated to report it!
+The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear
+Of the queen's speed, is gone.
+
+LEONTES:
+How! gone!
+
+Servant:
+Is dead.
+
+LEONTES:
+Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves
+Do strike at my injustice.
+How now there!
+
+PAULINA:
+This news is mortal to the queen: look down
+And see what death is doing.
+
+LEONTES:
+Take her hence:
+Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover:
+I have too much believed mine own suspicion:
+Beseech you, tenderly apply to her
+Some remedies for life.
+Apollo, pardon
+My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle!
+I'll reconcile me to Polixenes,
+New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo,
+Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy;
+For, being transported by my jealousies
+To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
+Camillo for the minister to poison
+My friend Polixenes: which had been done,
+But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
+My swift command, though I with death and with
+Reward did threaten and encourage him,
+Not doing 't and being done: he, most humane
+And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest
+Unclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here,
+Which you knew great, and to the hazard
+Of all encertainties himself commended,
+No richer than his honour: how he glisters
+Thorough my rust! and how his pity
+Does my deeds make the blacker!
+
+PAULINA:
+Woe the while!
+O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it,
+Break too.
+
+First Lord:
+What fit is this, good lady?
+
+PAULINA:
+What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
+What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling?
+In leads or oils? what old or newer torture
+Must I receive, whose every word deserves
+To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny
+Together working with thy jealousies,
+Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
+For girls of nine, O, think what they have done
+And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all
+Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
+That thou betray'dst Polixenes,'twas nothing;
+That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant
+And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much,
+Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
+To have him kill a king: poor trespasses,
+More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
+The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter
+To be or none or little; though a devil
+Would have shed water out of fire ere done't:
+Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
+Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts,
+Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart
+That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
+Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
+Laid to thy answer: but the last,--O lords,
+When I have said, cry 'woe!' the queen, the queen,
+The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead,
+and vengeance for't
+Not dropp'd down yet.
+
+First Lord:
+The higher powers forbid!
+
+PAULINA:
+I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath
+Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring
+Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye,
+Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you
+As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant!
+Do not repent these things, for they are heavier
+Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee
+To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
+Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
+Upon a barren mountain and still winter
+In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
+To look that way thou wert.
+
+LEONTES:
+Go on, go on
+Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved
+All tongues to talk their bitterest.
+
+First Lord:
+Say no more:
+Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
+I' the boldness of your speech.
+
+PAULINA:
+I am sorry for't:
+All faults I make, when I shall come to know them,
+I do repent. Alas! I have show'd too much
+The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd
+To the noble heart. What's gone and what's past help
+Should be past grief: do not receive affliction
+At my petition; I beseech you, rather
+Let me be punish'd, that have minded you
+Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege
+Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman:
+The love I bore your queen--lo, fool again!--
+I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children;
+I'll not remember you of my own lord,
+Who is lost too: take your patience to you,
+And I'll say nothing.
+
+LEONTES:
+Thou didst speak but well
+When most the truth; which I receive much better
+Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me
+To the dead bodies of my queen and son:
+One grave shall be for both: upon them shall
+The causes of their death appear, unto
+Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit
+The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there
+Shall be my recreation: so long as nature
+Will bear up with this exercise, so long
+I daily vow to use it. Come and lead me
+Unto these sorrows.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon
+The deserts of Bohemia?
+
+Mariner:
+Ay, my lord: and fear
+We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly
+And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,
+The heavens with that we have in hand are angry
+And frown upon 's.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard;
+Look to thy bark: I'll not be long before
+I call upon thee.
+
+Mariner:
+Make your best haste, and go not
+Too far i' the land: 'tis like to be loud weather;
+Besides, this place is famous for the creatures
+Of prey that keep upon't.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+Go thou away:
+I'll follow instantly.
+
+Mariner:
+I am glad at heart
+To be so rid o' the business.
+
+ANTIGONUS:
+Come, poor babe:
+I have heard, but not believed,
+the spirits o' the dead
+May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother
+Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream
+So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
+Sometimes her head on one side, some another;
+I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
+So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes,
+Like very sanctity, she did approach
+My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me,
+And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
+Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
+Did this break-from her: 'Good Antigonus,
+Since fate, against thy better disposition,
+Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
+Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,
+Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
+There weep and leave it crying; and, for the babe
+Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,
+I prithee, call't. For this ungentle business
+Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
+Thy wife Paulina more.' And so, with shrieks
+She melted into air. Affrighted much,
+I did in time collect myself and thought
+This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
+Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously,
+I will be squared by this. I do believe
+Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that
+Apollo would, this being indeed the issue
+Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid,
+Either for life or death, upon the earth
+Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well!
+There lie, and there thy character: there these;
+Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty,
+And still rest thine. The storm begins; poor wretch,
+That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed
+To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot,
+But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I
+To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell!
+The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have
+A lullaby too rough: I never saw
+The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour!
+Well may I get aboard! This is the chase:
+I am gone for ever.
+
+Shepherd:
+I would there were no age between sixteen and
+three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the
+rest; for there is nothing in the between but
+getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry,
+stealing, fighting--Hark you now! Would any but
+these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty
+hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my
+best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find
+than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by
+the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy
+will what have we here! Mercy on 's, a barne a very
+pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder? A
+pretty one; a very pretty one: sure, some 'scape:
+though I am not bookish, yet I can read
+waiting-gentlewoman in the 'scape. This has been
+some stair-work, some trunk-work, some
+behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this
+than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for
+pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hallooed
+but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa!
+
+Clown:
+Hilloa, loa!
+
+Shepherd:
+What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk
+on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What
+ailest thou, man?
+
+Clown:
+I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land!
+but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the
+sky: betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust
+a bodkin's point.
+
+Shepherd:
+Why, boy, how is it?
+
+Clown:
+I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages,
+how it takes up the shore! but that's not the
+point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls!
+sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the
+ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon
+swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a
+cork into a hogshead. And then for the
+land-service, to see how the bear tore out his
+shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help and said
+his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an
+end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragoned
+it: but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the
+sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared
+and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than
+the sea or weather.
+
+Shepherd:
+Name of mercy, when was this, boy?
+
+Clown:
+Now, now: I have not winked since I saw these
+sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor
+the bear half dined on the gentleman: he's at it
+now.
+
+Shepherd:
+Would I had been by, to have helped the old man!
+
+Clown:
+I would you had been by the ship side, to have
+helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing.
+
+Shepherd:
+Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here,
+boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things
+dying, I with things newborn. Here's a sight for
+thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's
+child! look thee here; take up, take up, boy;
+open't. So, let's see: it was told me I should be
+rich by the fairies. This is some changeling:
+open't. What's within, boy?
+
+Clown:
+You're a made old man: if the sins of your youth
+are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold!
+
+Shepherd:
+This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up
+with't, keep it close: home, home, the next way.
+We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires
+nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go: come, good
+boy, the next way home.
+
+Clown:
+Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see
+if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much
+he hath eaten: they are never curst but when they
+are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury
+it.
+
+Shepherd:
+That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that
+which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the
+sight of him.
+
+Clown:
+Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' the ground.
+
+Shepherd:
+'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't.
+
+Time:
+I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror
+Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error,
+Now take upon me, in the name of Time,
+To use my wings. Impute it not a crime
+To me or my swift passage, that I slide
+O'er sixteen years and leave the growth untried
+Of that wide gap, since it is in my power
+To o'erthrow law and in one self-born hour
+To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass
+The same I am, ere ancient'st order was
+Or what is now received: I witness to
+The times that brought them in; so shall I do
+To the freshest things now reigning and make stale
+The glistering of this present, as my tale
+Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing,
+I turn my glass and give my scene such growing
+As you had slept between: Leontes leaving,
+The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving
+That he shuts up himself, imagine me,
+Gentle spectators, that I now may be
+In fair Bohemia, and remember well,
+I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel
+I now name to you; and with speed so pace
+To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
+Equal with wondering: what of her ensues
+I list not prophecy; but let Time's news
+Be known when 'tis brought forth.
+A shepherd's daughter,
+And what to her adheres, which follows after,
+Is the argument of Time. Of this allow,
+If ever you have spent time worse ere now;
+If never, yet that Time himself doth say
+He wishes earnestly you never may.
+
+POLIXENES:
+I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate:
+'tis a sickness denying thee any thing; a death to
+grant this.
+
+CAMILLO:
+It is fifteen years since I saw my country: though
+I have for the most part been aired abroad, I
+desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent
+king, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling
+sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to
+think so, which is another spur to my departure.
+
+POLIXENES:
+As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of
+thy services by leaving me now: the need I have of
+thee thine own goodness hath made; better not to
+have had thee than thus to want thee: thou, having
+made me businesses which none without thee can
+sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute
+them thyself or take away with thee the very
+services thou hast done; which if I have not enough
+considered, as too much I cannot, to be more
+thankful to thee shall be my study, and my profit
+therein the heaping friendships. Of that fatal
+country, Sicilia, prithee speak no more; whose very
+naming punishes me with the remembrance of that
+penitent, as thou callest him, and reconciled king,
+my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen
+and children are even now to be afresh lamented.
+Say to me, when sawest thou the Prince Florizel, my
+son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not
+being gracious, than they are in losing them when
+they have approved their virtues.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince. What
+his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I
+have missingly noted, he is of late much retired
+from court and is less frequent to his princely
+exercises than formerly he hath appeared.
+
+POLIXENES:
+I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some
+care; so far that I have eyes under my service which
+look upon his removedness; from whom I have this
+intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a
+most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that from
+very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his
+neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a
+daughter of most rare note: the report of her is
+extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage.
+
+POLIXENES:
+That's likewise part of my intelligence; but, I
+fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou
+shalt accompany us to the place; where we will, not
+appearing what we are, have some question with the
+shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not
+uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither.
+Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and
+lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I willingly obey your command.
+
+POLIXENES:
+My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+When daffodils begin to peer,
+With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
+Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year;
+For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
+The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
+With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!
+Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
+For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
+The lark, that tirra-lyra chants,
+With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay,
+Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
+While we lie tumbling in the hay.
+I have served Prince Florizel and in my time
+wore three-pile; but now I am out of service:
+But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?
+The pale moon shines by night:
+And when I wander here and there,
+I then do most go right.
+If tinkers may have leave to live,
+And bear the sow-skin budget,
+Then my account I well may, give,
+And in the stocks avouch it.
+My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to
+lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who
+being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise
+a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and
+drab I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is
+the silly cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful
+on the highway: beating and hanging are terrors to
+me: for the life to come, I sleep out the thought
+of it. A prize! a prize!
+
+Clown:
+Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod
+yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred
+shorn. what comes the wool to?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+
+Clown:
+I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what am
+I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound
+of sugar, five pound of currants, rice,--what will
+this sister of mine do with rice? But my father
+hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it
+on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for
+the shearers, three-man-song-men all, and very good
+ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but
+one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to
+horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden
+pies; mace; dates?--none, that's out of my note;
+nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I
+may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of
+raisins o' the sun.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+O that ever I was born!
+
+Clown:
+I' the name of me--
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and
+then, death, death!
+
+Clown:
+Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay
+on thee, rather than have these off.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more
+than the stripes I have received, which are mighty
+ones and millions.
+
+Clown:
+Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a
+great matter.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel
+ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon
+me.
+
+Clown:
+What, by a horseman, or a footman?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+A footman, sweet sir, a footman.
+
+Clown:
+Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he
+has left with thee: if this be a horseman's coat,
+it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand,
+I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+O, good sir, tenderly, O!
+
+Clown:
+Alas, poor soul!
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my
+shoulder-blade is out.
+
+Clown:
+How now! canst stand?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+
+Clown:
+Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have
+a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence,
+unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or
+any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you;
+that kills my heart.
+
+Clown:
+What manner of fellow was he that robbed you?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with
+troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the
+prince: I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his
+virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.
+
+Clown:
+His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped
+out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay
+there; and yet it will no more but abide.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he
+hath been since an ape-bearer; then a
+process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a
+motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's
+wife within a mile where my land and living lies;
+and, having flown over many knavish professions, he
+settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.
+
+Clown:
+Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts
+wakes, fairs and bear-baitings.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that
+put me into this apparel.
+
+Clown:
+Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had
+but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am
+false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant
+him.
+
+Clown:
+How do you now?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and
+walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace
+softly towards my kinsman's.
+
+Clown:
+Shall I bring thee on the way?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.
+
+Clown:
+Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our
+sheep-shearing.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Prosper you, sweet sir!
+Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice.
+I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I
+make not this cheat bring out another and the
+shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name
+put in the book of virtue!
+Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
+And merrily hent the stile-a:
+A merry heart goes all the day,
+Your sad tires in a mile-a.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+These your unusual weeds to each part of you
+Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora
+Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing
+Is as a meeting of the petty gods,
+And you the queen on't.
+
+PERDITA:
+Sir, my gracious lord,
+To chide at your extremes it not becomes me:
+O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self,
+The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscured
+With a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid,
+Most goddess-like prank'd up: but that our feasts
+In every mess have folly and the feeders
+Digest it with a custom, I should blush
+To see you so attired, sworn, I think,
+To show myself a glass.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+I bless the time
+When my good falcon made her flight across
+Thy father's ground.
+
+PERDITA:
+Now Jove afford you cause!
+To me the difference forges dread; your greatness
+Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble
+To think your father, by some accident,
+Should pass this way as you did: O, the Fates!
+How would he look, to see his work so noble
+Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how
+Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold
+The sternness of his presence?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Apprehend
+Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
+Humbling their deities to love, have taken
+The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter
+Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune
+A ram, and bleated; and the fire-robed god,
+Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
+As I seem now. Their transformations
+Were never for a piece of beauty rarer,
+Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires
+Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts
+Burn hotter than my faith.
+
+PERDITA:
+O, but, sir,
+Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
+Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the king:
+One of these two must be necessities,
+Which then will speak, that you must
+change this purpose,
+Or I my life.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Thou dearest Perdita,
+With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not
+The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair,
+Or not my father's. For I cannot be
+Mine own, nor any thing to any, if
+I be not thine. To this I am most constant,
+Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle;
+Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing
+That you behold the while. Your guests are coming:
+Lift up your countenance, as it were the day
+Of celebration of that nuptial which
+We two have sworn shall come.
+
+PERDITA:
+O lady Fortune,
+Stand you auspicious!
+
+FLORIZEL:
+See, your guests approach:
+Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
+And let's be red with mirth.
+
+Shepherd:
+Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon
+This day she was both pantler, butler, cook,
+Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all;
+Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here,
+At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle;
+On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire
+With labour and the thing she took to quench it,
+She would to each one sip. You are retired,
+As if you were a feasted one and not
+The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid
+These unknown friends to's welcome; for it is
+A way to make us better friends, more known.
+Come, quench your blushes and present yourself
+That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on,
+And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
+As your good flock shall prosper.
+
+PERDITA:
+
+POLIXENES:
+Shepherdess,
+A fair one are you--well you fit our ages
+With flowers of winter.
+
+PERDITA:
+Sir, the year growing ancient,
+Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
+Of trembling winter, the fairest
+flowers o' the season
+Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors,
+Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind
+Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not
+To get slips of them.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Wherefore, gentle maiden,
+Do you neglect them?
+
+PERDITA:
+For I have heard it said
+There is an art which in their piedness shares
+With great creating nature.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Say there be;
+Yet nature is made better by no mean
+But nature makes that mean: so, over that art
+Which you say adds to nature, is an art
+That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry
+A gentler scion to the wildest stock,
+And make conceive a bark of baser kind
+By bud of nobler race: this is an art
+Which does mend nature, change it rather, but
+The art itself is nature.
+
+PERDITA:
+So it is.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,
+And do not call them bastards.
+
+PERDITA:
+I'll not put
+The dibble in earth to set one slip of them;
+No more than were I painted I would wish
+This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore
+Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you;
+Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram;
+The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun
+And with him rises weeping: these are flowers
+Of middle summer, and I think they are given
+To men of middle age. You're very welcome.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
+And only live by gazing.
+
+PERDITA:
+Out, alas!
+You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
+Would blow you through and through.
+Now, my fair'st friend,
+I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might
+Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
+That wear upon your virgin branches yet
+Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina,
+For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall
+From Dis's waggon! daffodils,
+That come before the swallow dares, and take
+The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
+But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
+Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses
+That die unmarried, ere they can behold
+Bight Phoebus in his strength--a malady
+Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
+The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
+The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack,
+To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend,
+To strew him o'er and o'er!
+
+FLORIZEL:
+What, like a corse?
+
+PERDITA:
+No, like a bank for love to lie and play on;
+Not like a corse; or if, not to be buried,
+But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers:
+Methinks I play as I have seen them do
+In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine
+Does change my disposition.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+What you do
+Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet.
+I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing,
+I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms,
+Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
+To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you
+A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
+Nothing but that; move still, still so,
+And own no other function: each your doing,
+So singular in each particular,
+Crowns what you are doing in the present deed,
+That all your acts are queens.
+
+PERDITA:
+O Doricles,
+Your praises are too large: but that your youth,
+And the true blood which peepeth fairly through't,
+Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd,
+With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
+You woo'd me the false way.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+I think you have
+As little skill to fear as I have purpose
+To put you to't. But come; our dance, I pray:
+Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,
+That never mean to part.
+
+PERDITA:
+I'll swear for 'em.
+
+POLIXENES:
+This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever
+Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or seems
+But smacks of something greater than herself,
+Too noble for this place.
+
+CAMILLO:
+He tells her something
+That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is
+The queen of curds and cream.
+
+Clown:
+Come on, strike up!
+
+DORCAS:
+Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic,
+To mend her kissing with!
+
+MOPSA:
+Now, in good time!
+
+Clown:
+Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners.
+Come, strike up!
+
+POLIXENES:
+Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this
+Which dances with your daughter?
+
+Shepherd:
+They call him Doricles; and boasts himself
+To have a worthy feeding: but I have it
+Upon his own report and I believe it;
+He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter:
+I think so too; for never gazed the moon
+Upon the water as he'll stand and read
+As 'twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain.
+I think there is not half a kiss to choose
+Who loves another best.
+
+POLIXENES:
+She dances featly.
+
+Shepherd:
+So she does any thing; though I report it,
+That should be silent: if young Doricles
+Do light upon her, she shall bring him that
+Which he not dreams of.
+
+Servant:
+O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the
+door, you would never dance again after a tabour and
+pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings
+several tunes faster than you'll tell money; he
+utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's
+ears grew to his tunes.
+
+Clown:
+He could never come better; he shall come in. I
+love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful
+matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing
+indeed and sung lamentably.
+
+Servant:
+He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes; no
+milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he
+has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without
+bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate
+burthens of dildos and fadings, 'jump her and thump
+her;' and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would,
+as it were, mean mischief and break a foul gap into
+the matter, he makes the maid to answer 'Whoop, do me
+no harm, good man;' puts him off, slights him, with
+'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.'
+
+POLIXENES:
+This is a brave fellow.
+
+Clown:
+Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited
+fellow. Has he any unbraided wares?
+
+Servant:
+He hath ribbons of an the colours i' the rainbow;
+points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can
+learnedly handle, though they come to him by the
+gross: inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why, he
+sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses; you
+would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants
+to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't.
+
+Clown:
+Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing.
+
+PERDITA:
+Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in 's tunes.
+
+Clown:
+You have of these pedlars, that have more in them
+than you'ld think, sister.
+
+PERDITA:
+Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Lawn as white as driven snow;
+Cyprus black as e'er was crow;
+Gloves as sweet as damask roses;
+Masks for faces and for noses;
+Bugle bracelet, necklace amber,
+Perfume for a lady's chamber;
+Golden quoifs and stomachers,
+For my lads to give their dears:
+Pins and poking-sticks of steel,
+What maids lack from head to heel:
+Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
+Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy.
+
+Clown:
+If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take
+no money of me; but being enthralled as I am, it
+will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves.
+
+MOPSA:
+I was promised them against the feast; but they come
+not too late now.
+
+DORCAS:
+He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.
+
+MOPSA:
+He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has
+paid you more, which will shame you to give him again.
+
+Clown:
+Is there no manners left among maids? will they
+wear their plackets where they should bear their
+faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are
+going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off these
+secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all
+our guests? 'tis well they are whispering: clamour
+your tongues, and not a word more.
+
+MOPSA:
+I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace
+and a pair of sweet gloves.
+
+Clown:
+Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way
+and lost all my money?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad;
+therefore it behoves men to be wary.
+
+Clown:
+Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge.
+
+Clown:
+What hast here? ballads?
+
+MOPSA:
+Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o'
+life, for then we are sure they are true.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's
+wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a
+burthen and how she longed to eat adders' heads and
+toads carbonadoed.
+
+MOPSA:
+Is it true, think you?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Very true, and but a month old.
+
+DORCAS:
+Bless me from marrying a usurer!
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress
+Tale-porter, and five or six honest wives that were
+present. Why should I carry lies abroad?
+
+MOPSA:
+Pray you now, buy it.
+
+Clown:
+Come on, lay it by: and let's first see moe
+ballads; we'll buy the other things anon.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Here's another ballad of a fish, that appeared upon
+the coast on Wednesday the four-score of April,
+forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this
+ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was
+thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold
+fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that
+loved her: the ballad is very pitiful and as true.
+
+DORCAS:
+Is it true too, think you?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than
+my pack will hold.
+
+Clown:
+Lay it by too: another.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
+
+MOPSA:
+Let's have some merry ones.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to
+the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man:' there's
+scarce a maid westward but she sings it; 'tis in
+request, I can tell you.
+
+MOPSA:
+We can both sing it: if thou'lt bear a part, thou
+shalt hear; 'tis in three parts.
+
+DORCAS:
+We had the tune on't a month ago.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my
+occupation; have at it with you.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Get you hence, for I must go
+Where it fits not you to know.
+
+DORCAS:
+Whither?
+
+MOPSA:
+O, whither?
+
+DORCAS:
+Whither?
+
+MOPSA:
+It becomes thy oath full well,
+Thou to me thy secrets tell.
+
+DORCAS:
+Me too, let me go thither.
+
+MOPSA:
+Or thou goest to the orange or mill.
+
+DORCAS:
+If to either, thou dost ill.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Neither.
+
+DORCAS:
+What, neither?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Neither.
+
+DORCAS:
+Thou hast sworn my love to be.
+
+MOPSA:
+Thou hast sworn it more to me:
+Then whither goest? say, whither?
+
+Clown:
+We'll have this song out anon by ourselves: my
+father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll
+not trouble them. Come, bring away thy pack after
+me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. Pedlar, let's
+have the first choice. Follow me, girls.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+And you shall pay well for 'em.
+Will you buy any tape,
+Or lace for your cape,
+My dainty duck, my dear-a?
+Any silk, any thread,
+Any toys for your head,
+Of the new'st and finest, finest wear-a?
+Come to the pedlar;
+Money's a medler.
+That doth utter all men's ware-a.
+
+Servant:
+Master, there is three carters, three shepherds,
+three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made
+themselves all men of hair, they call themselves
+Saltiers, and they have a dance which the wenches
+say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are
+not in't; but they themselves are o' the mind, if it
+be not too rough for some that know little but
+bowling, it will please plentifully.
+
+Shepherd:
+Away! we'll none on 't: here has been too much
+homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you.
+
+POLIXENES:
+You weary those that refresh us: pray, let's see
+these four threes of herdsmen.
+
+Servant:
+One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath
+danced before the king; and not the worst of the
+three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squier.
+
+Shepherd:
+Leave your prating: since these good men are
+pleased, let them come in; but quickly now.
+
+Servant:
+Why, they stay at door, sir.
+
+POLIXENES:
+O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter.
+Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them.
+He's simple and tells much.
+How now, fair shepherd!
+Your heart is full of something that does take
+Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young
+And handed love as you do, I was wont
+To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd
+The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it
+To her acceptance; you have let him go
+And nothing marted with him. If your lass
+Interpretation should abuse and call this
+Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited
+For a reply, at least if you make a care
+Of happy holding her.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Old sir, I know
+She prizes not such trifles as these are:
+The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd
+Up in my heart; which I have given already,
+But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life
+Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem,
+Hath sometime loved! I take thy hand, this hand,
+As soft as dove's down and as white as it,
+Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd
+snow that's bolted
+By the northern blasts twice o'er.
+
+POLIXENES:
+What follows this?
+How prettily the young swain seems to wash
+The hand was fair before! I have put you out:
+But to your protestation; let me hear
+What you profess.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Do, and be witness to 't.
+
+POLIXENES:
+And this my neighbour too?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+And he, and more
+Than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, and all:
+That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,
+Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth
+That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge
+More than was ever man's, I would not prize them
+Without her love; for her employ them all;
+Commend them and condemn them to her service
+Or to their own perdition.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Fairly offer'd.
+
+CAMILLO:
+This shows a sound affection.
+
+Shepherd:
+But, my daughter,
+Say you the like to him?
+
+PERDITA:
+I cannot speak
+So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better:
+By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out
+The purity of his.
+
+Shepherd:
+Take hands, a bargain!
+And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't:
+I give my daughter to him, and will make
+Her portion equal his.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+O, that must be
+I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead,
+I shall have more than you can dream of yet;
+Enough then for your wonder. But, come on,
+Contract us 'fore these witnesses.
+
+Shepherd:
+Come, your hand;
+And, daughter, yours.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you;
+Have you a father?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+I have: but what of him?
+
+POLIXENES:
+Knows he of this?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+He neither does nor shall.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Methinks a father
+Is at the nuptial of his son a guest
+That best becomes the table. Pray you once more,
+Is not your father grown incapable
+Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid
+With age and altering rheums? can he speak? hear?
+Know man from man? dispute his own estate?
+Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing
+But what he did being childish?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+No, good sir;
+He has his health and ampler strength indeed
+Than most have of his age.
+
+POLIXENES:
+By my white beard,
+You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
+Something unfilial: reason my son
+Should choose himself a wife, but as good reason
+The father, all whose joy is nothing else
+But fair posterity, should hold some counsel
+In such a business.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+I yield all this;
+But for some other reasons, my grave sir,
+Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
+My father of this business.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Let him know't.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+He shall not.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Prithee, let him.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+No, he must not.
+
+Shepherd:
+Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve
+At knowing of thy choice.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Come, come, he must not.
+Mark our contract.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Mark your divorce, young sir,
+Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base
+To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir,
+That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! Thou old traitor,
+I am sorry that by hanging thee I can
+But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece
+Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know
+The royal fool thou copest with,--
+
+Shepherd:
+O, my heart!
+
+POLIXENES:
+I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made
+More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy,
+If I may ever know thou dost but sigh
+That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never
+I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succession;
+Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin,
+Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words:
+Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time,
+Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee
+From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment.--
+Worthy enough a herdsman: yea, him too,
+That makes himself, but for our honour therein,
+Unworthy thee,--if ever henceforth thou
+These rural latches to his entrance open,
+Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
+I will devise a death as cruel for thee
+As thou art tender to't.
+
+PERDITA:
+Even here undone!
+I was not much afeard; for once or twice
+I was about to speak and tell him plainly,
+The selfsame sun that shines upon his court
+Hides not his visage from our cottage but
+Looks on alike. Will't please you, sir, be gone?
+I told you what would come of this: beseech you,
+Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,--
+Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther,
+But milk my ewes and weep.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Why, how now, father!
+Speak ere thou diest.
+
+Shepherd:
+I cannot speak, nor think
+Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir!
+You have undone a man of fourscore three,
+That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea,
+To die upon the bed my father died,
+To lie close by his honest bones: but now
+Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me
+Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch,
+That knew'st this was the prince,
+and wouldst adventure
+To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone!
+If I might die within this hour, I have lived
+To die when I desire.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Why look you so upon me?
+I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd,
+But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am;
+More straining on for plucking back, not following
+My leash unwillingly.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Gracious my lord,
+You know your father's temper: at this time
+He will allow no speech, which I do guess
+You do not purpose to him; and as hardly
+Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear:
+Then, till the fury of his highness settle,
+Come not before him.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+I not purpose it.
+I think, Camillo?
+
+CAMILLO:
+Even he, my lord.
+
+PERDITA:
+How often have I told you 'twould be thus!
+How often said, my dignity would last
+But till 'twere known!
+
+FLORIZEL:
+It cannot fail but by
+The violation of my faith; and then
+Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together
+And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks:
+From my succession wipe me, father; I
+Am heir to my affection.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Be advised.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+I am, and by my fancy: if my reason
+Will thereto be obedient, I have reason;
+If not, my senses, better pleased with madness,
+Do bid it welcome.
+
+CAMILLO:
+This is desperate, sir.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+So call it: but it does fulfil my vow;
+I needs must think it honesty. Camillo,
+Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may
+Be thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or
+The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides
+In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath
+To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you,
+As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend,
+When he shall miss me,--as, in faith, I mean not
+To see him any more,--cast your good counsels
+Upon his passion; let myself and fortune
+Tug for the time to come. This you may know
+And so deliver, I am put to sea
+With her whom here I cannot hold on shore;
+And most opportune to our need I have
+A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared
+For this design. What course I mean to hold
+Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor
+Concern me the reporting.
+
+CAMILLO:
+O my lord!
+I would your spirit were easier for advice,
+Or stronger for your need.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Hark, Perdita
+I'll hear you by and by.
+
+CAMILLO:
+He's irremoveable,
+Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if
+His going I could frame to serve my turn,
+Save him from danger, do him love and honour,
+Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia
+And that unhappy king, my master, whom
+I so much thirst to see.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Now, good Camillo;
+I am so fraught with curious business that
+I leave out ceremony.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Sir, I think
+You have heard of my poor services, i' the love
+That I have borne your father?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Very nobly
+Have you deserved: it is my father's music
+To speak your deeds, not little of his care
+To have them recompensed as thought on.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Well, my lord,
+If you may please to think I love the king
+And through him what is nearest to him, which is
+Your gracious self, embrace but my direction:
+If your more ponderous and settled project
+May suffer alteration, on mine honour,
+I'll point you where you shall have such receiving
+As shall become your highness; where you may
+Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see,
+There's no disjunction to be made, but by--
+As heavens forefend!--your ruin; marry her,
+And, with my best endeavours in your absence,
+Your discontenting father strive to qualify
+And bring him up to liking.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+How, Camillo,
+May this, almost a miracle, be done?
+That I may call thee something more than man
+And after that trust to thee.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Have you thought on
+A place whereto you'll go?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Not any yet:
+But as the unthought-on accident is guilty
+To what we wildly do, so we profess
+Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies
+Of every wind that blows.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Then list to me:
+This follows, if you will not change your purpose
+But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia,
+And there present yourself and your fair princess,
+For so I see she must be, 'fore Leontes:
+She shall be habited as it becomes
+The partner of your bed. Methinks I see
+Leontes opening his free arms and weeping
+His welcomes forth; asks thee the son forgiveness,
+As 'twere i' the father's person; kisses the hands
+Of your fresh princess; o'er and o'er divides him
+'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one
+He chides to hell and bids the other grow
+Faster than thought or time.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Worthy Camillo,
+What colour for my visitation shall I
+Hold up before him?
+
+CAMILLO:
+Sent by the king your father
+To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir,
+The manner of your bearing towards him, with
+What you as from your father shall deliver,
+Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down:
+The which shall point you forth at every sitting
+What you must say; that he shall not perceive
+But that you have your father's bosom there
+And speak his very heart.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+I am bound to you:
+There is some sap in this.
+
+CAMILLO:
+A cause more promising
+Than a wild dedication of yourselves
+To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most certain
+To miseries enough; no hope to help you,
+But as you shake off one to take another;
+Nothing so certain as your anchors, who
+Do their best office, if they can but stay you
+Where you'll be loath to be: besides you know
+Prosperity's the very bond of love,
+Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
+Affliction alters.
+
+PERDITA:
+One of these is true:
+I think affliction may subdue the cheek,
+But not take in the mind.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Yea, say you so?
+There shall not at your father's house these
+seven years
+Be born another such.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+My good Camillo,
+She is as forward of her breeding as
+She is i' the rear our birth.
+
+CAMILLO:
+I cannot say 'tis pity
+She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress
+To most that teach.
+
+PERDITA:
+Your pardon, sir; for this
+I'll blush you thanks.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+My prettiest Perdita!
+But O, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo,
+Preserver of my father, now of me,
+The medicine of our house, how shall we do?
+We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son,
+Nor shall appear in Sicilia.
+
+CAMILLO:
+My lord,
+Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes
+Do all lie there: it shall be so my care
+To have you royally appointed as if
+The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir,
+That you may know you shall not want, one word.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his
+sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold
+all my trumpery; not a counterfeit stone, not a
+ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad,
+knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring,
+to keep my pack from fasting: they throng who
+should buy first, as if my trinkets had been
+hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer:
+by which means I saw whose purse was best in
+picture; and what I saw, to my good use I
+remembered. My clown, who wants but something to
+be a reasonable man, grew so in love with the
+wenches' song, that he would not stir his pettitoes
+till he had both tune and words; which so drew the
+rest of the herd to me that all their other senses
+stuck in ears: you might have pinched a placket, it
+was senseless; 'twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a
+purse; I could have filed keys off that hung in
+chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song,
+and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this
+time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their
+festival purses; and had not the old man come in
+with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king's
+son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not
+left a purse alive in the whole army.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Nay, but my letters, by this means being there
+So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+And those that you'll procure from King Leontes--
+
+CAMILLO:
+Shall satisfy your father.
+
+PERDITA:
+Happy be you!
+All that you speak shows fair.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Who have we here?
+We'll make an instrument of this, omit
+Nothing may give us aid.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+If they have overheard me now, why, hanging.
+
+CAMILLO:
+How now, good fellow! why shakest thou so? Fear
+not, man; here's no harm intended to thee.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I am a poor fellow, sir.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from
+thee: yet for the outside of thy poverty we must
+make an exchange; therefore discase thee instantly,
+--thou must think there's a necessity in't,--and
+change garments with this gentleman: though the
+pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee,
+there's some boot.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I am a poor fellow, sir.
+I know ye well enough.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half
+flayed already.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Are you in earnest, sir?
+I smell the trick on't.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Dispatch, I prithee.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Indeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with
+conscience take it.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Unbuckle, unbuckle.
+Fortunate mistress,--let my prophecy
+Come home to ye!--you must retire yourself
+Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat
+And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your face,
+Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken
+The truth of your own seeming; that you may--
+For I do fear eyes over--to shipboard
+Get undescried.
+
+PERDITA:
+I see the play so lies
+That I must bear a part.
+
+CAMILLO:
+No remedy.
+Have you done there?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Should I now meet my father,
+He would not call me son.
+
+CAMILLO:
+Nay, you shall have no hat.
+Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Adieu, sir.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+O Perdita, what have we twain forgot!
+Pray you, a word.
+
+CAMILLO:
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Fortune speed us!
+Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.
+
+CAMILLO:
+The swifter speed the better.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I understand the business, I hear it: to have an
+open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is
+necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite
+also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see
+this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive.
+What an exchange had this been without boot! What
+a boot is here with this exchange! Sure the gods do
+this year connive at us, and we may do any thing
+extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of
+iniquity, stealing away from his father with his
+clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of
+honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not
+do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it;
+and therein am I constant to my profession.
+Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain:
+every lane's end, every shop, church, session,
+hanging, yields a careful man work.
+
+Clown:
+See, see; what a man you are now!
+There is no other way but to tell the king
+she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood.
+
+Shepherd:
+Nay, but hear me.
+
+Clown:
+Nay, but hear me.
+
+Shepherd:
+Go to, then.
+
+Clown:
+She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh
+and blood has not offended the king; and so your
+flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show
+those things you found about her, those secret
+things, all but what she has with her: this being
+done, let the law go whistle: I warrant you.
+
+Shepherd:
+I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his
+son's pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest man,
+neither to his father nor to me, to go about to make
+me the king's brother-in-law.
+
+Clown:
+Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you
+could have been to him and then your blood had been
+the dearer by I know how much an ounce.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+
+Shepherd:
+Well, let us to the king: there is that in this
+fardel will make him scratch his beard.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+
+Clown:
+Pray heartily he be at palace.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+
+Shepherd:
+To the palace, an it like your worship.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Your affairs there, what, with whom, the condition
+of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your
+names, your ages, of what having, breeding, and any
+thing that is fitting to be known, discover.
+
+Clown:
+We are but plain fellows, sir.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let me have no
+lying: it becomes none but tradesmen, and they
+often give us soldiers the lie: but we pay them for
+it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel; therefore
+they do not give us the lie.
+
+Clown:
+Your worship had like to have given us one, if you
+had not taken yourself with the manner.
+
+Shepherd:
+Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest
+thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings?
+hath not my gait in it the measure of the court?
+receives not thy nose court-odor from me? reflect I
+not on thy baseness court-contempt? Thinkest thou,
+for that I insinuate, or toaze from thee thy
+business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier
+cap-a-pe; and one that will either push on or pluck
+back thy business there: whereupon I command thee to
+open thy affair.
+
+Shepherd:
+My business, sir, is to the king.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+What advocate hast thou to him?
+
+Shepherd:
+I know not, an't like you.
+
+Clown:
+Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant: say you
+have none.
+
+Shepherd:
+None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+How blessed are we that are not simple men!
+Yet nature might have made me as these are,
+Therefore I will not disdain.
+
+Clown:
+This cannot be but a great courtier.
+
+Shepherd:
+His garments are rich, but he wears
+them not handsomely.
+
+Clown:
+He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical:
+a great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking
+on's teeth.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+The fardel there? what's i' the fardel?
+Wherefore that box?
+
+Shepherd:
+Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box,
+which none must know but the king; and which he
+shall know within this hour, if I may come to the
+speech of him.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Age, thou hast lost thy labour.
+
+Shepherd:
+Why, sir?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a
+new ship to purge melancholy and air himself: for,
+if thou beest capable of things serious, thou must
+know the king is full of grief.
+
+Shepard:
+So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that should have
+married a shepherd's daughter.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly:
+the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall
+feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster.
+
+Clown:
+Think you so, sir?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy
+and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to
+him, though removed fifty times, shall all come
+under the hangman: which though it be great pity,
+yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whistling rogue a
+ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into
+grace! Some say he shall be stoned; but that death
+is too soft for him, say I draw our throne into a
+sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy.
+
+Clown:
+Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear. an't
+like you, sir?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; then
+'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a
+wasp's nest; then stand till he be three quarters
+and a dram dead; then recovered again with
+aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as
+he is, and in the hottest day prognostication
+proclaims, shall be be set against a brick-wall, the
+sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he
+is to behold him with flies blown to death. But what
+talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries
+are to be smiled at, their offences being so
+capital? Tell me, for you seem to be honest plain
+men, what you have to the king: being something
+gently considered, I'll bring you where he is
+aboard, tender your persons to his presence,
+whisper him in your behalfs; and if it be in man
+besides the king to effect your suits, here is man
+shall do it.
+
+Clown:
+He seems to be of great authority: close with him,
+give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn
+bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold: show
+the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand,
+and no more ado. Remember 'stoned,' and 'flayed alive.'
+
+Shepherd:
+An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for
+us, here is that gold I have: I'll make it as much
+more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+After I have done what I promised?
+
+Shepherd:
+Ay, sir.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business?
+
+Clown:
+In some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful
+one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+O, that's the case of the shepherd's son: hang him,
+he'll be made an example.
+
+Clown:
+Comfort, good comfort! We must to the king and show
+our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of your
+daughter nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I
+will give you as much as this old man does when the
+business is performed, and remain, as he says, your
+pawn till it be brought you.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side;
+go on the right hand: I will but look upon the
+hedge and follow you.
+
+Clown:
+We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest.
+
+Shepherd:
+Let's before as he bids us: he was provided to do us good.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would
+not suffer me: she drops booties in my mouth. I am
+courted now with a double occasion, gold and a means
+to do the prince my master good; which who knows how
+that may turn back to my advancement? I will bring
+these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him: if he
+think it fit to shore them again and that the
+complaint they have to the king concerns him
+nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far
+officious; for I am proof against that title and
+what shame else belongs to't. To him will I present
+them: there may be matter in it.
+
+CLEOMENES:
+Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd
+A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make,
+Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down
+More penitence than done trespass: at the last,
+Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil;
+With them forgive yourself.
+
+LEONTES:
+Whilst I remember
+Her and her virtues, I cannot forget
+My blemishes in them, and so still think of
+The wrong I did myself; which was so much,
+That heirless it hath made my kingdom and
+Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man
+Bred his hopes out of.
+
+PAULINA:
+True, too true, my lord:
+If, one by one, you wedded all the world,
+Or from the all that are took something good,
+To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd
+Would be unparallel'd.
+
+LEONTES:
+I think so. Kill'd!
+She I kill'd! I did so: but thou strikest me
+Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter
+Upon thy tongue as in my thought: now, good now,
+Say so but seldom.
+
+CLEOMENES:
+Not at all, good lady:
+You might have spoken a thousand things that would
+Have done the time more benefit and graced
+Your kindness better.
+
+PAULINA:
+You are one of those
+Would have him wed again.
+
+DION:
+If you would not so,
+You pity not the state, nor the remembrance
+Of his most sovereign name; consider little
+What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue,
+May drop upon his kingdom and devour
+Incertain lookers on. What were more holy
+Than to rejoice the former queen is well?
+What holier than, for royalty's repair,
+For present comfort and for future good,
+To bless the bed of majesty again
+With a sweet fellow to't?
+
+PAULINA:
+There is none worthy,
+Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods
+Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes;
+For has not the divine Apollo said,
+Is't not the tenor of his oracle,
+That King Leontes shall not have an heir
+Till his lost child be found? which that it shall,
+Is all as monstrous to our human reason
+As my Antigonus to break his grave
+And come again to me; who, on my life,
+Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel
+My lord should to the heavens be contrary,
+Oppose against their wills.
+Care not for issue;
+The crown will find an heir: great Alexander
+Left his to the worthiest; so his successor
+Was like to be the best.
+
+LEONTES:
+Good Paulina,
+Who hast the memory of Hermione,
+I know, in honour, O, that ever I
+Had squared me to thy counsel! then, even now,
+I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes,
+Have taken treasure from her lips--
+
+PAULINA:
+And left them
+More rich for what they yielded.
+
+LEONTES:
+Thou speak'st truth.
+No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one worse,
+And better used, would make her sainted spirit
+Again possess her corpse, and on this stage,
+Where we're offenders now, appear soul-vex'd,
+And begin, 'Why to me?'
+
+PAULINA:
+Had she such power,
+She had just cause.
+
+LEONTES:
+She had; and would incense me
+To murder her I married.
+
+PAULINA:
+I should so.
+Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'ld bid you mark
+Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't
+You chose her; then I'ld shriek, that even your ears
+Should rift to hear me; and the words that follow'd
+Should be 'Remember mine.'
+
+LEONTES:
+Stars, stars,
+And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no wife;
+I'll have no wife, Paulina.
+
+PAULINA:
+Will you swear
+Never to marry but by my free leave?
+
+LEONTES:
+Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit!
+
+PAULINA:
+Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.
+
+CLEOMENES:
+You tempt him over-much.
+
+PAULINA:
+Unless another,
+As like Hermione as is her picture,
+Affront his eye.
+
+CLEOMENES:
+Good madam,--
+
+PAULINA:
+I have done.
+Yet, if my lord will marry,--if you will, sir,
+No remedy, but you will,--give me the office
+To choose you a queen: she shall not be so young
+As was your former; but she shall be such
+As, walk'd your first queen's ghost,
+it should take joy
+To see her in your arms.
+
+LEONTES:
+My true Paulina,
+We shall not marry till thou bid'st us.
+
+PAULINA:
+That
+Shall be when your first queen's again in breath;
+Never till then.
+
+Gentleman:
+One that gives out himself Prince Florizel,
+Son of Polixenes, with his princess, she
+The fairest I have yet beheld, desires access
+To your high presence.
+
+LEONTES:
+What with him? he comes not
+Like to his father's greatness: his approach,
+So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us
+'Tis not a visitation framed, but forced
+By need and accident. What train?
+
+Gentleman:
+But few,
+And those but mean.
+
+LEONTES:
+His princess, say you, with him?
+
+Gentleman:
+Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, I think,
+That e'er the sun shone bright on.
+
+PAULINA:
+O Hermione,
+As every present time doth boast itself
+Above a better gone, so must thy grave
+Give way to what's seen now! Sir, you yourself
+Have said and writ so, but your writing now
+Is colder than that theme, 'She had not been,
+Nor was not to be equall'd;'--thus your verse
+Flow'd with her beauty once: 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,
+To say you have seen a better.
+
+Gentleman:
+Pardon, madam:
+The one I have almost forgot,--your pardon,--
+The other, when she has obtain'd your eye,
+Will have your tongue too. This is a creature,
+Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal
+Of all professors else, make proselytes
+Of who she but bid follow.
+
+PAULINA:
+How! not women?
+
+Gentleman:
+Women will love her, that she is a woman
+More worth than any man; men, that she is
+The rarest of all women.
+
+LEONTES:
+Go, Cleomenes;
+Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends,
+Bring them to our embracement. Still, 'tis strange
+He thus should steal upon us.
+
+PAULINA:
+Had our prince,
+Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd
+Well with this lord: there was not full a month
+Between their births.
+
+LEONTES:
+Prithee, no more; cease; thou know'st
+He dies to me again when talk'd of: sure,
+When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches
+Will bring me to consider that which may
+Unfurnish me of reason. They are come.
+Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince;
+For she did print your royal father off,
+Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one,
+Your father's image is so hit in you,
+His very air, that I should call you brother,
+As I did him, and speak of something wildly
+By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome!
+And your fair princess,--goddess!--O, alas!
+I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth
+Might thus have stood begetting wonder as
+You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost--
+All mine own folly--the society,
+Amity too, of your brave father, whom,
+Though bearing misery, I desire my life
+Once more to look on him.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+By his command
+Have I here touch'd Sicilia and from him
+Give you all greetings that a king, at friend,
+Can send his brother: and, but infirmity
+Which waits upon worn times hath something seized
+His wish'd ability, he had himself
+The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his
+Measured to look upon you; whom he loves--
+He bade me say so--more than all the sceptres
+And those that bear them living.
+
+LEONTES:
+O my brother,
+Good gentleman! the wrongs I have done thee stir
+Afresh within me, and these thy offices,
+So rarely kind, are as interpreters
+Of my behind-hand slackness. Welcome hither,
+As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too
+Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage,
+At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune,
+To greet a man not worth her pains, much less
+The adventure of her person?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Good my lord,
+She came from Libya.
+
+LEONTES:
+Where the warlike Smalus,
+That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and loved?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter
+His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence,
+A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross'd,
+To execute the charge my father gave me
+For visiting your highness: my best train
+I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd;
+Who for Bohemia bend, to signify
+Not only my success in Libya, sir,
+But my arrival and my wife's in safety
+Here where we are.
+
+LEONTES:
+The blessed gods
+Purge all infection from our air whilst you
+Do climate here! You have a holy father,
+A graceful gentleman; against whose person,
+So sacred as it is, I have done sin:
+For which the heavens, taking angry note,
+Have left me issueless; and your father's blest,
+As he from heaven merits it, with you
+Worthy his goodness. What might I have been,
+Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on,
+Such goodly things as you!
+
+Lord:
+Most noble sir,
+That which I shall report will bear no credit,
+Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir,
+Bohemia greets you from himself by me;
+Desires you to attach his son, who has--
+His dignity and duty both cast off--
+Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
+A shepherd's daughter.
+
+LEONTES:
+Where's Bohemia? speak.
+
+Lord:
+Here in your city; I now came from him:
+I speak amazedly; and it becomes
+My marvel and my message. To your court
+Whiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems,
+Of this fair couple, meets he on the way
+The father of this seeming lady and
+Her brother, having both their country quitted
+With this young prince.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Camillo has betray'd me;
+Whose honour and whose honesty till now
+Endured all weathers.
+
+Lord:
+Lay't so to his charge:
+He's with the king your father.
+
+LEONTES:
+Who? Camillo?
+
+Lord:
+Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now
+Has these poor men in question. Never saw I
+Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth;
+Forswear themselves as often as they speak:
+Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them
+With divers deaths in death.
+
+PERDITA:
+O my poor father!
+The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
+Our contract celebrated.
+
+LEONTES:
+You are married?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+We are not, sir, nor are we like to be;
+The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first:
+The odds for high and low's alike.
+
+LEONTES:
+My lord,
+Is this the daughter of a king?
+
+FLORIZEL:
+She is,
+When once she is my wife.
+
+LEONTES:
+That 'once' I see by your good father's speed
+Will come on very slowly. I am sorry,
+Most sorry, you have broken from his liking
+Where you were tied in duty, and as sorry
+Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty,
+That you might well enjoy her.
+
+FLORIZEL:
+Dear, look up:
+Though Fortune, visible an enemy,
+Should chase us with my father, power no jot
+Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir,
+Remember since you owed no more to time
+Than I do now: with thought of such affections,
+Step forth mine advocate; at your request
+My father will grant precious things as trifles.
+
+LEONTES:
+Would he do so, I'ld beg your precious mistress,
+Which he counts but a trifle.
+
+PAULINA:
+Sir, my liege,
+Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month
+'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes
+Than what you look on now.
+
+LEONTES:
+I thought of her,
+Even in these looks I made.
+But your petition
+Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father:
+Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires,
+I am friend to them and you: upon which errand
+I now go toward him; therefore follow me
+And mark what way I make: come, good my lord.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation?
+
+First Gentleman:
+I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old
+shepherd deliver the manner how he found it:
+whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all
+commanded out of the chamber; only this methought I
+heard the shepherd say, he found the child.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I would most gladly know the issue of it.
+
+First Gentleman:
+I make a broken delivery of the business; but the
+changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were
+very notes of admiration: they seemed almost, with
+staring on one another, to tear the cases of their
+eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language
+in their very gesture; they looked as they had heard
+of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a notable
+passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest
+beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not
+say if the importance were joy or sorrow; but in the
+extremity of the one, it must needs be.
+Here comes a gentleman that haply knows more.
+The news, Rogero?
+
+Second Gentleman:
+Nothing but bonfires: the oracle is fulfilled; the
+king's daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is
+broken out within this hour that ballad-makers
+cannot be able to express it.
+Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward: he can
+deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this news
+which is called true is so like an old tale, that
+the verity of it is in strong suspicion: has the king
+found his heir?
+
+Third Gentleman:
+Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by
+circumstance: that which you hear you'll swear you
+see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle
+of Queen Hermione's, her jewel about the neck of it,
+the letters of Antigonus found with it which they
+know to be his character, the majesty of the
+creature in resemblance of the mother, the affection
+of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding,
+and many other evidences proclaim her with all
+certainty to be the king's daughter. Did you see
+the meeting of the two kings?
+
+Second Gentleman:
+No.
+
+Third Gentleman:
+Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen,
+cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one
+joy crown another, so and in such manner that it
+seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their
+joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes,
+holding up of hands, with countenances of such
+distraction that they were to be known by garment,
+not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of
+himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that
+joy were now become a loss, cries 'O, thy mother,
+thy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then
+embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his
+daughter with clipping her; now he thanks the old
+shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten
+conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such
+another encounter, which lames report to follow it
+and undoes description to do it.
+
+Second Gentleman:
+What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried
+hence the child?
+
+Third Gentleman:
+Like an old tale still, which will have matter to
+rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear
+open. He was torn to pieces with a bear: this
+avouches the shepherd's son; who has not only his
+innocence, which seems much, to justify him, but a
+handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows.
+
+First Gentleman:
+What became of his bark and his followers?
+
+Third Gentleman:
+Wrecked the same instant of their master's death and
+in the view of the shepherd: so that all the
+instruments which aided to expose the child were
+even then lost when it was found. But O, the noble
+combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in
+Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of
+her husband, another elevated that the oracle was
+fulfilled: she lifted the princess from the earth,
+and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin
+her to her heart that she might no more be in danger
+of losing.
+
+First Gentleman:
+The dignity of this act was worth the audience of
+kings and princes; for by such was it acted.
+
+Third Gentleman:
+One of the prettiest touches of all and that which
+angled for mine eyes, caught the water though not
+the fish, was when, at the relation of the queen's
+death, with the manner how she came to't bravely
+confessed and lamented by the king, how
+attentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from one
+sign of dolour to another, she did, with an 'Alas,'
+I would fain say, bleed tears, for I am sure my
+heart wept blood. Who was most marble there changed
+colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world
+could have seen 't, the woe had been universal.
+
+First Gentleman:
+Are they returned to the court?
+
+Third Gentleman:
+No: the princess hearing of her mother's statue,
+which is in the keeping of Paulina,--a piece many
+years in doing and now newly performed by that rare
+Italian master, Julio Romano, who, had he himself
+eternity and could put breath into his work, would
+beguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her
+ape: he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that
+they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of
+answer: thither with all greediness of affection
+are they gone, and there they intend to sup.
+
+Second Gentleman:
+I thought she had some great matter there in hand;
+for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever
+since the death of Hermione, visited that removed
+house. Shall we thither and with our company piece
+the rejoicing?
+
+First Gentleman:
+Who would be thence that has the benefit of access?
+every wink of an eye some new grace will be born:
+our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge.
+Let's along.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me,
+would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old
+man and his son aboard the prince: told him I heard
+them talk of a fardel and I know not what: but he
+at that time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter,
+so he then took her to be, who began to be much
+sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of
+weather continuing, this mystery remained
+undiscovered. But 'tis all one to me; for had I
+been the finder out of this secret, it would not
+have relished among my other discredits.
+Here come those I have done good to against my will,
+and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune.
+
+Shepherd:
+Come, boy; I am past moe children, but thy sons and
+daughters will be all gentlemen born.
+
+Clown:
+You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me
+this other day, because I was no gentleman born.
+See you these clothes? say you see them not and
+think me still no gentleman born: you were best say
+these robes are not gentlemen born: give me the
+lie, do, and try whether I am not now a gentleman born.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born.
+
+Clown:
+Ay, and have been so any time these four hours.
+
+Shepherd:
+And so have I, boy.
+
+Clown:
+So you have: but I was a gentleman born before my
+father; for the king's son took me by the hand, and
+called me brother; and then the two kings called my
+father brother; and then the prince my brother and
+the princess my sister called my father father; and
+so we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like
+tears that ever we shed.
+
+Shepherd:
+We may live, son, to shed many more.
+
+Clown:
+Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so
+preposterous estate as we are.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the
+faults I have committed to your worship and to give
+me your good report to the prince my master.
+
+Shepherd:
+Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are
+gentlemen.
+
+Clown:
+Thou wilt amend thy life?
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+Ay, an it like your good worship.
+
+Clown:
+Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince thou
+art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia.
+
+Shepherd:
+You may say it, but not swear it.
+
+Clown:
+Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and
+franklins say it, I'll swear it.
+
+Shepherd:
+How if it be false, son?
+
+Clown:
+If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear
+it in the behalf of his friend: and I'll swear to
+the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and
+that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know thou art no
+tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be
+drunk: but I'll swear it, and I would thou wouldst
+be a tall fellow of thy hands.
+
+AUTOLYCUS:
+I will prove so, sir, to my power.
+
+Clown:
+Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I do not
+wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not
+being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark! the kings
+and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the
+queen's picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy
+good masters.
+
+LEONTES:
+O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort
+That I have had of thee!
+
+PAULINA:
+What, sovereign sir,
+I did not well I meant well. All my services
+You have paid home: but that you have vouchsafed,
+With your crown'd brother and these your contracted
+Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit,
+It is a surplus of your grace, which never
+My life may last to answer.
+
+LEONTES:
+O Paulina,
+We honour you with trouble: but we came
+To see the statue of our queen: your gallery
+Have we pass'd through, not without much content
+In many singularities; but we saw not
+That which my daughter came to look upon,
+The statue of her mother.
+
+PAULINA:
+As she lived peerless,
+So her dead likeness, I do well believe,
+Excels whatever yet you look'd upon
+Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it
+Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare
+To see the life as lively mock'd as ever
+Still sleep mock'd death: behold, and say 'tis well.
+I like your silence, it the more shows off
+Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege,
+Comes it not something near?
+
+LEONTES:
+Her natural posture!
+Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed
+Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she
+In thy not chiding, for she was as tender
+As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina,
+Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing
+So aged as this seems.
+
+POLIXENES:
+O, not by much.
+
+PAULINA:
+So much the more our carver's excellence;
+Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her
+As she lived now.
+
+LEONTES:
+As now she might have done,
+So much to my good comfort, as it is
+Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood,
+Even with such life of majesty, warm life,
+As now it coldly stands, when first I woo'd her!
+I am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke me
+For being more stone than it? O royal piece,
+There's magic in thy majesty, which has
+My evils conjured to remembrance and
+From thy admiring daughter took the spirits,
+Standing like stone with thee.
+
+PERDITA:
+And give me leave,
+And do not say 'tis superstition, that
+I kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady,
+Dear queen, that ended when I but began,
+Give me that hand of yours to kiss.
+
+PAULINA:
+O, patience!
+The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's Not dry.
+
+CAMILLO:
+My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on,
+Which sixteen winters cannot blow away,
+So many summers dry; scarce any joy
+Did ever so long live; no sorrow
+But kill'd itself much sooner.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Dear my brother,
+Let him that was the cause of this have power
+To take off so much grief from you as he
+Will piece up in himself.
+
+PAULINA:
+Indeed, my lord,
+If I had thought the sight of my poor image
+Would thus have wrought you,--for the stone is mine--
+I'ld not have show'd it.
+
+LEONTES:
+Do not draw the curtain.
+
+PAULINA:
+No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy
+May think anon it moves.
+
+LEONTES:
+Let be, let be.
+Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already--
+What was he that did make it? See, my lord,
+Would you not deem it breathed? and that those veins
+Did verily bear blood?
+
+POLIXENES:
+Masterly done:
+The very life seems warm upon her lip.
+
+LEONTES:
+The fixture of her eye has motion in't,
+As we are mock'd with art.
+
+PAULINA:
+I'll draw the curtain:
+My lord's almost so far transported that
+He'll think anon it lives.
+
+LEONTES:
+O sweet Paulina,
+Make me to think so twenty years together!
+No settled senses of the world can match
+The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone.
+
+PAULINA:
+I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but
+I could afflict you farther.
+
+LEONTES:
+Do, Paulina;
+For this affliction has a taste as sweet
+As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks,
+There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel
+Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,
+For I will kiss her.
+
+PAULINA:
+Good my lord, forbear:
+The ruddiness upon her lip is wet;
+You'll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own
+With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain?
+
+LEONTES:
+No, not these twenty years.
+
+PERDITA:
+So long could I
+Stand by, a looker on.
+
+PAULINA:
+Either forbear,
+Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you
+For more amazement. If you can behold it,
+I'll make the statue move indeed, descend
+And take you by the hand; but then you'll think--
+Which I protest against--I am assisted
+By wicked powers.
+
+LEONTES:
+What you can make her do,
+I am content to look on: what to speak,
+I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy
+To make her speak as move.
+
+PAULINA:
+It is required
+You do awake your faith. Then all stand still;
+On: those that think it is unlawful business
+I am about, let them depart.
+
+LEONTES:
+Proceed:
+No foot shall stir.
+
+PAULINA:
+Music, awake her; strike!
+'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach;
+Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come,
+I'll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away,
+Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him
+Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs:
+Start not; her actions shall be holy as
+You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her
+Until you see her die again; for then
+You kill her double. Nay, present your hand:
+When she was young you woo'd her; now in age
+Is she become the suitor?
+
+LEONTES:
+O, she's warm!
+If this be magic, let it be an art
+Lawful as eating.
+
+POLIXENES:
+She embraces him.
+
+CAMILLO:
+She hangs about his neck:
+If she pertain to life let her speak too.
+
+POLIXENES:
+Ay, and make't manifest where she has lived,
+Or how stolen from the dead.
+
+PAULINA:
+That she is living,
+Were it but told you, should be hooted at
+Like an old tale: but it appears she lives,
+Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while.
+Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel
+And pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady;
+Our Perdita is found.
+
+HERMIONE:
+You gods, look down
+And from your sacred vials pour your graces
+Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine own.
+Where hast thou been preserved? where lived? how found
+Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear that I,
+Knowing by Paulina that the oracle
+Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved
+Myself to see the issue.
+
+PAULINA:
+There's time enough for that;
+Lest they desire upon this push to trouble
+Your joys with like relation. Go together,
+You precious winners all; your exultation
+Partake to every one. I, an old turtle,
+Will wing me to some wither'd bough and there
+My mate, that's never to be found again,
+Lament till I am lost.
+
+LEONTES:
+O, peace, Paulina!
+Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,
+As I by thine a wife: this is a match,
+And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine;
+But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her,
+As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many
+A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far--
+For him, I partly know his mind--to find thee
+An honourable husband. Come, Camillo,
+And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty
+Is richly noted and here justified
+By us, a pair of kings. Let's from this place.
+What! look upon my brother: both your pardons,
+That e'er I put between your holy looks
+My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law,
+And son unto the king, who, heavens directing,
+Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,
+Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely
+Each one demand an answer to his part
+Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first
+We were dissever'd: hastily lead away.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Escalus.
+
+ESCALUS:
+My lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Of government the properties to unfold,
+Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse;
+Since I am put to know that your own science
+Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice
+My strength can give you: then no more remains,
+But that to your sufficiency, as your Worth is able,
+And let them work. The nature of our people,
+Our city's institutions, and the terms
+For common justice, you're as pregnant in
+As art and practise hath enriched any
+That we remember. There is our commission,
+From which we would not have you warp. Call hither,
+I say, bid come before us Angelo.
+What figure of us think you he will bear?
+For you must know, we have with special soul
+Elected him our absence to supply,
+Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love,
+And given his deputation all the organs
+Of our own power: what think you of it?
+
+ESCALUS:
+If any in Vienna be of worth
+To undergo such ample grace and honour,
+It is Lord Angelo.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Look where he comes.
+
+ANGELO:
+Always obedient to your grace's will,
+I come to know your pleasure.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Angelo,
+There is a kind of character in thy life,
+That to the observer doth thy history
+Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings
+Are not thine own so proper as to waste
+Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.
+Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,
+Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues
+Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike
+As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd
+But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends
+The smallest scruple of her excellence
+But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines
+Herself the glory of a creditor,
+Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech
+To one that can my part in him advertise;
+Hold therefore, Angelo:--
+In our remove be thou at full ourself;
+Mortality and mercy in Vienna
+Live in thy tongue and heart: old Escalus,
+Though first in question, is thy secondary.
+Take thy commission.
+
+ANGELO:
+Now, good my lord,
+Let there be some more test made of my metal,
+Before so noble and so great a figure
+Be stamp'd upon it.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+No more evasion:
+We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice
+Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours.
+Our haste from hence is of so quick condition
+That it prefers itself and leaves unquestion'd
+Matters of needful value. We shall write to you,
+As time and our concernings shall importune,
+How it goes with us, and do look to know
+What doth befall you here. So, fare you well;
+To the hopeful execution do I leave you
+Of your commissions.
+
+ANGELO:
+Yet give leave, my lord,
+That we may bring you something on the way.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+My haste may not admit it;
+Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do
+With any scruple; your scope is as mine own
+So to enforce or qualify the laws
+As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand:
+I'll privily away. I love the people,
+But do not like to stage me to their eyes:
+Through it do well, I do not relish well
+Their loud applause and Aves vehement;
+Nor do I think the man of safe discretion
+That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.
+
+ANGELO:
+The heavens give safety to your purposes!
+
+ESCALUS:
+Lead forth and bring you back in happiness!
+
+DUKE:
+I thank you. Fare you well.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave
+To have free speech with you; and it concerns me
+To look into the bottom of my place:
+A power I have, but of what strength and nature
+I am not yet instructed.
+
+ANGELO:
+'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together,
+And we may soon our satisfaction have
+Touching that point.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I'll wait upon your honour.
+
+LUCIO:
+If the duke with the other dukes come not to
+composition with the King of Hungary, why then all
+the dukes fall upon the king.
+
+First Gentleman:
+Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of
+Hungary's!
+
+Second Gentleman:
+Amen.
+
+LUCIO:
+Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate, that
+went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scraped
+one out of the table.
+
+Second Gentleman:
+'Thou shalt not steal'?
+
+LUCIO:
+Ay, that he razed.
+
+First Gentleman:
+Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and
+all the rest from their functions: they put forth
+to steal. There's not a soldier of us all, that, in
+the thanksgiving before meat, do relish the petition
+well that prays for peace.
+
+Second Gentleman:
+I never heard any soldier dislike it.
+
+LUCIO:
+I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where
+grace was said.
+
+Second Gentleman:
+No? a dozen times at least.
+
+First Gentleman:
+What, in metre?
+
+LUCIO:
+In any proportion or in any language.
+
+First Gentleman:
+I think, or in any religion.
+
+LUCIO:
+Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all
+controversy: as, for example, thou thyself art a
+wicked villain, despite of all grace.
+
+First Gentleman:
+Well, there went but a pair of shears between us.
+
+LUCIO:
+I grant; as there may between the lists and the
+velvet. Thou art the list.
+
+First Gentleman:
+And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet; thou'rt
+a three-piled piece, I warrant thee: I had as lief
+be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou
+art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak
+feelingly now?
+
+LUCIO:
+I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful
+feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own
+confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I
+live, forget to drink after thee.
+
+First Gentleman:
+I think I have done myself wrong, have I not?
+
+Second Gentleman:
+Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free.
+
+LUCIO:
+Behold, behold. where Madam Mitigation comes! I
+have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to--
+
+Second Gentleman:
+To what, I pray?
+
+LUCIO:
+Judge.
+
+Second Gentleman:
+To three thousand dolours a year.
+
+First Gentleman:
+Ay, and more.
+
+LUCIO:
+A French crown more.
+
+First Gentleman:
+Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou
+art full of error; I am sound.
+
+LUCIO:
+Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as
+things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow;
+impiety has made a feast of thee.
+
+First Gentleman:
+How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica?
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried
+to prison was worth five thousand of you all.
+
+Second Gentleman:
+Who's that, I pray thee?
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.
+
+First Gentleman:
+Claudio to prison? 'tis not so.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested, saw
+him carried away; and, which is more, within these
+three days his head to be chopped off.
+
+LUCIO:
+But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so.
+Art thou sure of this?
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam
+Julietta with child.
+
+LUCIO:
+Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet me two
+hours since, and he was ever precise in
+promise-keeping.
+
+Second Gentleman:
+Besides, you know, it draws something near to the
+speech we had to such a purpose.
+
+First Gentleman:
+But, most of all, agreeing with the proclamation.
+
+LUCIO:
+Away! let's go learn the truth of it.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what
+with the gallows and what with poverty, I am
+custom-shrunk.
+How now! what's the news with you?
+
+POMPEY:
+Yonder man is carried to prison.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+Well; what has he done?
+
+POMPEY:
+A woman.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+But what's his offence?
+
+POMPEY:
+Groping for trouts in a peculiar river.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+What, is there a maid with child by him?
+
+POMPEY:
+No, but there's a woman with maid by him. You have
+not heard of the proclamation, have you?
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+What proclamation, man?
+
+POMPEY:
+All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+And what shall become of those in the city?
+
+POMPEY:
+They shall stand for seed: they had gone down too,
+but that a wise burgher put in for them.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be
+pulled down?
+
+POMPEY:
+To the ground, mistress.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth!
+What shall become of me?
+
+POMPEY:
+Come; fear you not: good counsellors lack no
+clients: though you change your place, you need not
+change your trade; I'll be your tapster still.
+Courage! there will be pity taken on you: you that
+have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you
+will be considered.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+What's to do here, Thomas tapster? let's withdraw.
+
+POMPEY:
+Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to
+prison; and there's Madam Juliet.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world?
+Bear me to prison, where I am committed.
+
+Provost:
+I do it not in evil disposition,
+But from Lord Angelo by special charge.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Thus can the demigod Authority
+Make us pay down for our offence by weight
+The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will;
+On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.
+
+LUCIO:
+Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty:
+As surfeit is the father of much fast,
+So every scope by the immoderate use
+Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue,
+Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,
+A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die.
+
+LUCIO:
+If could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would
+send for certain of my creditors: and yet, to say
+the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom
+as the morality of imprisonment. What's thy
+offence, Claudio?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+What but to speak of would offend again.
+
+LUCIO:
+What, is't murder?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+No.
+
+LUCIO:
+Lechery?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Call it so.
+
+Provost:
+Away, sir! you must go.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you.
+
+LUCIO:
+A hundred, if they'll do you any good.
+Is lechery so look'd after?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract
+I got possession of Julietta's bed:
+You know the lady; she is fast my wife,
+Save that we do the denunciation lack
+Of outward order: this we came not to,
+Only for propagation of a dower
+Remaining in the coffer of her friends,
+From whom we thought it meet to hide our love
+Till time had made them for us. But it chances
+The stealth of our most mutual entertainment
+With character too gross is writ on Juliet.
+
+LUCIO:
+With child, perhaps?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Unhappily, even so.
+And the new deputy now for the duke--
+Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness,
+Or whether that the body public be
+A horse whereon the governor doth ride,
+Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
+He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
+Whether the tyranny be in his place,
+Or in his emmence that fills it up,
+I stagger in:--but this new governor
+Awakes me all the enrolled penalties
+Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall
+So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round
+And none of them been worn; and, for a name,
+Now puts the drowsy and neglected act
+Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name.
+
+LUCIO:
+I warrant it is: and thy head stands so tickle on
+thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love,
+may sigh it off. Send after the duke and appeal to
+him.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+I have done so, but he's not to be found.
+I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service:
+This day my sister should the cloister enter
+And there receive her approbation:
+Acquaint her with the danger of my state:
+Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends
+To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him:
+I have great hope in that; for in her youth
+There is a prone and speechless dialect,
+Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art
+When she will play with reason and discourse,
+And well she can persuade.
+
+LUCIO:
+I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the
+like, which else would stand under grievous
+imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I
+would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a
+game of tick-tack. I'll to her.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+I thank you, good friend Lucio.
+
+LUCIO:
+Within two hours.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Come, officer, away!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+No, holy father; throw away that thought;
+Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
+Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee
+To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose
+More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
+Of burning youth.
+
+FRIAR THOMAS:
+May your grace speak of it?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+My holy sir, none better knows than you
+How I have ever loved the life removed
+And held in idle price to haunt assemblies
+Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.
+I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo,
+A man of stricture and firm abstinence,
+My absolute power and place here in Vienna,
+And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;
+For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,
+And so it is received. Now, pious sir,
+You will demand of me why I do this?
+
+FRIAR THOMAS:
+Gladly, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+We have strict statutes and most biting laws.
+The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds,
+Which for this nineteen years we have let slip;
+Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,
+That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,
+Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch,
+Only to stick it in their children's sight
+For terror, not to use, in time the rod
+Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees,
+Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
+And liberty plucks justice by the nose;
+The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
+Goes all decorum.
+
+FRIAR THOMAS:
+It rested in your grace
+To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased:
+And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd
+Than in Lord Angelo.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I do fear, too dreadful:
+Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope,
+'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them
+For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done,
+When evil deeds have their permissive pass
+And not the punishment. Therefore indeed, my father,
+I have on Angelo imposed the office;
+Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home,
+And yet my nature never in the fight
+To do in slander. And to behold his sway,
+I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,
+Visit both prince and people: therefore, I prithee,
+Supply me with the habit and instruct me
+How I may formally in person bear me
+Like a true friar. More reasons for this action
+At our more leisure shall I render you;
+Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise;
+Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses
+That his blood flows, or that his appetite
+Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see,
+If power change purpose, what our seemers be.
+
+ISABELLA:
+And have you nuns no farther privileges?
+
+FRANCISCA:
+Are not these large enough?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more;
+But rather wishing a more strict restraint
+Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ISABELLA:
+Who's that which calls?
+
+FRANCISCA:
+It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella,
+Turn you the key, and know his business of him;
+You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn.
+When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men
+But in the presence of the prioress:
+Then, if you speak, you must not show your face,
+Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.
+He calls again; I pray you, answer him.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls
+
+LUCIO:
+Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses
+Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me
+As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
+A novice of this place and the fair sister
+To her unhappy brother Claudio?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Why 'her unhappy brother'? let me ask,
+The rather for I now must make you know
+I am that Isabella and his sister.
+
+LUCIO:
+Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you:
+Not to be weary with you, he's in prison.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Woe me! for what?
+
+LUCIO:
+For that which, if myself might be his judge,
+He should receive his punishment in thanks:
+He hath got his friend with child.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Sir, make me not your story.
+
+LUCIO:
+It is true.
+I would not--though 'tis my familiar sin
+With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest,
+Tongue far from heart--play with all virgins so:
+I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted.
+By your renouncement an immortal spirit,
+And to be talk'd with in sincerity,
+As with a saint.
+
+ISABELLA:
+You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.
+
+LUCIO:
+Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus:
+Your brother and his lover have embraced:
+As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time
+That from the seedness the bare fallow brings
+To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb
+Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet?
+
+LUCIO:
+Is she your cousin?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names
+By vain though apt affection.
+
+LUCIO:
+She it is.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, let him marry her.
+
+LUCIO:
+This is the point.
+The duke is very strangely gone from hence;
+Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,
+In hand and hope of action: but we do learn
+By those that know the very nerves of state,
+His givings-out were of an infinite distance
+From his true-meant design. Upon his place,
+And with full line of his authority,
+Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood
+Is very snow-broth; one who never feels
+The wanton stings and motions of the sense,
+But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge
+With profits of the mind, study and fast.
+He--to give fear to use and liberty,
+Which have for long run by the hideous law,
+As mice by lions--hath pick'd out an act,
+Under whose heavy sense your brother's life
+Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it;
+And follows close the rigour of the statute,
+To make him an example. All hope is gone,
+Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
+To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of business
+'Twixt you and your poor brother.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Doth he so seek his life?
+
+LUCIO:
+Has censured him
+Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath
+A warrant for his execution.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Alas! what poor ability's in me
+To do him good?
+
+LUCIO:
+Assay the power you have.
+
+ISABELLA:
+My power? Alas, I doubt--
+
+LUCIO:
+Our doubts are traitors
+And make us lose the good we oft might win
+By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo,
+And let him learn to know, when maidens sue,
+Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,
+All their petitions are as freely theirs
+As they themselves would owe them.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I'll see what I can do.
+
+LUCIO:
+But speedily.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I will about it straight;
+No longer staying but to give the mother
+Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you:
+Commend me to my brother: soon at night
+I'll send him certain word of my success.
+
+LUCIO:
+I take my leave of you.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Good sir, adieu.
+
+ANGELO:
+We must not make a scarecrow of the law,
+Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,
+And let it keep one shape, till custom make it
+Their perch and not their terror.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Ay, but yet
+Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,
+Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman
+Whom I would save, had a most noble father!
+Let but your honour know,
+Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,
+That, in the working of your own affections,
+Had time cohered with place or place with wishing,
+Or that the resolute acting of your blood
+Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose,
+Whether you had not sometime in your life
+Err'd in this point which now you censure him,
+And pull'd the law upon you.
+
+ANGELO:
+'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,
+Another thing to fall. I not deny,
+The jury, passing on the prisoner's life,
+May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two
+Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice,
+That justice seizes: what know the laws
+That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant,
+The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't
+Because we see it; but what we do not see
+We tread upon, and never think of it.
+You may not so extenuate his offence
+For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,
+When I, that censure him, do so offend,
+Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,
+And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Be it as your wisdom will.
+
+ANGELO:
+Where is the provost?
+
+Provost:
+Here, if it like your honour.
+
+ANGELO:
+See that Claudio
+Be executed by nine to-morrow morning:
+Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared;
+For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage.
+
+ESCALUS:
+
+ELBOW:
+Come, bring them away: if these be good people in
+a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in
+common houses, I know no law: bring them away.
+
+ANGELO:
+How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter?
+
+ELBOW:
+If it Please your honour, I am the poor duke's
+constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon
+justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good
+honour two notorious benefactors.
+
+ANGELO:
+Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are
+they not malefactors?
+
+ELBOW:
+If it? please your honour, I know not well what they
+are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure
+of; and void of all profanation in the world that
+good Christians ought to have.
+
+ESCALUS:
+This comes off well; here's a wise officer.
+
+ANGELO:
+Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is your
+name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow?
+
+POMPEY:
+He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow.
+
+ANGELO:
+What are you, sir?
+
+ELBOW:
+He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that
+serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they
+say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she
+professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too.
+
+ESCALUS:
+How know you that?
+
+ELBOW:
+My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,--
+
+ESCALUS:
+How? thy wife?
+
+ELBOW:
+Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,--
+
+ESCALUS:
+Dost thou detest her therefore?
+
+ELBOW:
+I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as
+she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house,
+it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.
+
+ESCALUS:
+How dost thou know that, constable?
+
+ELBOW:
+Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman
+cardinally given, might have been accused in
+fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there.
+
+ESCALUS:
+By the woman's means?
+
+ELBOW:
+Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means: but as she
+spit in his face, so she defied him.
+
+POMPEY:
+Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.
+
+ELBOW:
+Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable
+man; prove it.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Do you hear how he misplaces?
+
+POMPEY:
+Sir, she came in great with child; and longing,
+saving your honour's reverence, for stewed prunes;
+sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very
+distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a
+dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen
+such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very
+good dishes,--
+
+ESCALUS:
+Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir.
+
+POMPEY:
+No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in
+the right: but to the point. As I say, this
+Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and
+being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for
+prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said,
+Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the
+rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very
+honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could
+not give you three-pence again.
+
+FROTH:
+No, indeed.
+
+POMPEY:
+Very well: you being then, if you be remembered,
+cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,--
+
+FROTH:
+Ay, so I did indeed.
+
+POMPEY:
+Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be
+remembered, that such a one and such a one were past
+cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very
+good diet, as I told you,--
+
+FROTH:
+All this is true.
+
+POMPEY:
+Why, very well, then,--
+
+ESCALUS:
+Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What
+was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to
+complain of? Come me to what was done to her.
+
+POMPEY:
+Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.
+
+ESCALUS:
+No, sir, nor I mean it not.
+
+POMPEY:
+Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's
+leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth
+here, sir; a man of four-score pound a year; whose
+father died at Hallowmas: was't not at Hallowmas,
+Master Froth?
+
+FROTH:
+All-hallond eve.
+
+POMPEY:
+Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir,
+sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in
+the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed you have a delight
+to sit, have you not?
+
+FROTH:
+I have so; because it is an open room and good for winter.
+
+POMPEY:
+Why, very well, then; I hope here be truths.
+
+ANGELO:
+This will last out a night in Russia,
+When nights are longest there: I'll take my leave.
+And leave you to the hearing of the cause;
+Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship.
+Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow's wife, once more?
+
+POMPEY:
+Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once.
+
+ELBOW:
+I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.
+
+POMPEY:
+I beseech your honour, ask me.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Well, sir; what did this gentleman to her?
+
+POMPEY:
+I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face.
+Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a
+good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face?
+
+ESCALUS:
+Ay, sir, very well.
+
+POMPEY:
+Nay; I beseech you, mark it well.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Well, I do so.
+
+POMPEY:
+Doth your honour see any harm in his face?
+
+ESCALUS:
+Why, no.
+
+POMPEY:
+I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst
+thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the
+worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the
+constable's wife any harm? I would know that of
+your honour.
+
+ESCALUS:
+He's in the right. Constable, what say you to it?
+
+ELBOW:
+First, an it like you, the house is a respected
+house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his
+mistress is a respected woman.
+
+POMPEY:
+By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected
+person than any of us all.
+
+ELBOW:
+Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the
+time has yet to come that she was ever respected
+with man, woman, or child.
+
+POMPEY:
+Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Which is the wiser here? Justice or Iniquity? Is
+this true?
+
+ELBOW:
+O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked
+Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married
+to her! If ever I was respected with her, or she
+with me, let not your worship think me the poor
+duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or
+I'll have mine action of battery on thee.
+
+ESCALUS:
+If he took you a box o' the ear, you might have your
+action of slander too.
+
+ELBOW:
+Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is't
+your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff?
+
+ESCALUS:
+Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him
+that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him
+continue in his courses till thou knowest what they
+are.
+
+ELBOW:
+Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou
+wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee: thou art
+to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Where were you born, friend?
+
+FROTH:
+Here in Vienna, sir.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Are you of fourscore pounds a year?
+
+FROTH:
+Yes, an't please you, sir.
+
+ESCALUS:
+So. What trade are you of, sir?
+
+POMPHEY:
+Tapster; a poor widow's tapster.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Your mistress' name?
+
+POMPHEY:
+Mistress Overdone.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Hath she had any more than one husband?
+
+POMPEY:
+Nine, sir; Overdone by the last.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Nine! Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master
+Froth, I would not have you acquainted with
+tapsters: they will draw you, Master Froth, and you
+will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no
+more of you.
+
+FROTH:
+I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never
+come into any room in a tap-house, but I am drawn
+in.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Well, no more of it, Master Froth: farewell.
+Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What's your
+name, Master tapster?
+
+POMPEY:
+Pompey.
+
+ESCALUS:
+What else?
+
+POMPEY:
+Bum, sir.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you;
+so that in the beastliest sense you are Pompey the
+Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey,
+howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you
+not? come, tell me true: it shall be the better for you.
+
+POMPEY:
+Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live.
+
+ESCALUS:
+How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What
+do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?
+
+POMPEY:
+If the law would allow it, sir.
+
+ESCALUS:
+But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall
+not be allowed in Vienna.
+
+POMPEY:
+Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the
+youth of the city?
+
+ESCALUS:
+No, Pompey.
+
+POMPEY:
+Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then.
+If your worship will take order for the drabs and
+the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.
+
+ESCALUS:
+There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you:
+it is but heading and hanging.
+
+POMPEY:
+If you head and hang all that offend that way but
+for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a
+commission for more heads: if this law hold in
+Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it
+after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this
+come to pass, say Pompey told you so.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your
+prophecy, hark you: I advise you, let me not find
+you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever;
+no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey,
+I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd
+Caesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall
+have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.
+
+POMPEY:
+I thank your worship for your good counsel:
+but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall
+better determine.
+Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade:
+The valiant heart is not whipt out of his trade.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come hither, Master
+constable. How long have you been in this place of constable?
+
+ELBOW:
+Seven year and a half, sir.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had
+continued in it some time. You say, seven years together?
+
+ELBOW:
+And a half, sir.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do you
+wrong to put you so oft upon 't: are there not men
+in your ward sufficient to serve it?
+
+ELBOW:
+Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they
+are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I
+do it for some piece of money, and go through with
+all.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven,
+the most sufficient of your parish.
+
+ELBOW:
+To your worship's house, sir?
+
+ESCALUS:
+To my house. Fare you well.
+What's o'clock, think you?
+
+Justice:
+Eleven, sir.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I pray you home to dinner with me.
+
+Justice:
+I humbly thank you.
+
+ESCALUS:
+It grieves me for the death of Claudio;
+But there's no remedy.
+
+Justice:
+Lord Angelo is severe.
+
+ESCALUS:
+It is but needful:
+Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;
+Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
+But yet,--poor Claudio! There is no remedy.
+Come, sir.
+
+Servant:
+He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight
+I'll tell him of you.
+
+Provost:
+Pray you, do.
+I'll know
+His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas,
+He hath but as offended in a dream!
+All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he
+To die for't!
+
+ANGELO:
+Now, what's the matter. Provost?
+
+Provost:
+Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow?
+
+ANGELO:
+Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order?
+Why dost thou ask again?
+
+Provost:
+Lest I might be too rash:
+Under your good correction, I have seen,
+When, after execution, judgment hath
+Repented o'er his doom.
+
+ANGELO:
+Go to; let that be mine:
+Do you your office, or give up your place,
+And you shall well be spared.
+
+Provost:
+I crave your honour's pardon.
+What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?
+She's very near her hour.
+
+ANGELO:
+Dispose of her
+To some more fitter place, and that with speed.
+
+Servant:
+Here is the sister of the man condemn'd
+Desires access to you.
+
+ANGELO:
+Hath he a sister?
+
+Provost:
+Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,
+And to be shortly of a sisterhood,
+If not already.
+
+ANGELO:
+Well, let her be admitted.
+See you the fornicatress be removed:
+Let have needful, but not lavish, means;
+There shall be order for't.
+
+Provost:
+God save your honour!
+
+ANGELO:
+Stay a little while.
+You're welcome: what's your will?
+
+ISABELLA:
+I am a woeful suitor to your honour,
+Please but your honour hear me.
+
+ANGELO:
+Well; what's your suit?
+
+ISABELLA:
+There is a vice that most I do abhor,
+And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
+For which I would not plead, but that I must;
+For which I must not plead, but that I am
+At war 'twixt will and will not.
+
+ANGELO:
+Well; the matter?
+
+ISABELLA:
+I have a brother is condemn'd to die:
+I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
+And not my brother.
+
+Provost:
+
+ANGELO:
+Condemn the fault and not the actor of it?
+Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done:
+Mine were the very cipher of a function,
+To fine the faults whose fine stands in record,
+And let go by the actor.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O just but severe law!
+I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour!
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ISABELLA:
+Must he needs die?
+
+ANGELO:
+Maiden, no remedy.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
+And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.
+
+ANGELO:
+I will not do't.
+
+ISABELLA:
+But can you, if you would?
+
+ANGELO:
+Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.
+
+ISABELLA:
+But might you do't, and do the world no wrong,
+If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse
+As mine is to him?
+
+ANGELO:
+He's sentenced; 'tis too late.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ISABELLA:
+Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word.
+May call it back again. Well, believe this,
+No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
+Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
+The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
+Become them with one half so good a grace
+As mercy does.
+If he had been as you and you as he,
+You would have slipt like him; but he, like you,
+Would not have been so stern.
+
+ANGELO:
+Pray you, be gone.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I would to heaven I had your potency,
+And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?
+No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
+And what a prisoner.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ANGELO:
+Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
+And you but waste your words.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Alas, alas!
+Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;
+And He that might the vantage best have took
+Found out the remedy. How would you be,
+If He, which is the top of judgment, should
+But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
+And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
+Like man new made.
+
+ANGELO:
+Be you content, fair maid;
+It is the law, not I condemn your brother:
+Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,
+It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow.
+
+ISABELLA:
+To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him!
+He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens
+We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven
+With less respect than we do minister
+To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you;
+Who is it that hath died for this offence?
+There's many have committed it.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ANGELO:
+The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:
+Those many had not dared to do that evil,
+If the first that did the edict infringe
+Had answer'd for his deed: now 'tis awake
+Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
+Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils,
+Either new, or by remissness new-conceived,
+And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,
+Are now to have no successive degrees,
+But, ere they live, to end.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Yet show some pity.
+
+ANGELO:
+I show it most of all when I show justice;
+For then I pity those I do not know,
+Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;
+And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,
+Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;
+Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.
+
+ISABELLA:
+So you must be the first that gives this sentence,
+And he, that suffer's. O, it is excellent
+To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
+To use it like a giant.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ISABELLA:
+Could great men thunder
+As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
+For every pelting, petty officer
+Would use his heaven for thunder;
+Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven,
+Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
+Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
+Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man,
+Drest in a little brief authority,
+Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
+His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
+Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
+As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
+Would all themselves laugh mortal.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+Provost:
+
+ISABELLA:
+We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:
+Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them,
+But in the less foul profanation.
+
+LUCIO:
+Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o, that.
+
+ISABELLA:
+That in the captain's but a choleric word,
+Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ANGELO:
+Why do you put these sayings upon me?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Because authority, though it err like others,
+Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
+That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom;
+Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
+That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
+A natural guiltiness such as is his,
+Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
+Against my brother's life.
+
+ANGELO:
+
+ISABELLA:
+Gentle my lord, turn back.
+
+ANGELO:
+I will bethink me: come again tomorrow.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back.
+
+ANGELO:
+How! bribe me?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ISABELLA:
+Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,
+Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor
+As fancy values them; but with true prayers
+That shall be up at heaven and enter there
+Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls,
+From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate
+To nothing temporal.
+
+ANGELO:
+Well; come to me to-morrow.
+
+LUCIO:
+
+ISABELLA:
+Heaven keep your honour safe!
+
+ANGELO:
+
+ISABELLA:
+At what hour to-morrow
+Shall I attend your lordship?
+
+ANGELO:
+At any time 'fore noon.
+
+ISABELLA:
+'Save your honour!
+
+ANGELO:
+From thee, even from thy virtue!
+What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine?
+The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
+Ha!
+Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I
+That, lying by the violet in the sun,
+Do as the carrion does, not as the flower,
+Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be
+That modesty may more betray our sense
+Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,
+Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary
+And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!
+What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
+Dost thou desire her foully for those things
+That make her good? O, let her brother live!
+Thieves for their robbery have authority
+When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her,
+That I desire to hear her speak again,
+And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
+O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
+With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
+Is that temptation that doth goad us on
+To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet,
+With all her double vigour, art and nature,
+Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
+Subdues me quite. Even till now,
+When men were fond, I smiled and wonder'd how.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Hail to you, provost! so I think you are.
+
+Provost:
+I am the provost. What's your will, good friar?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Bound by my charity and my blest order,
+I come to visit the afflicted spirits
+Here in the prison. Do me the common right
+To let me see them and to make me know
+The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
+To them accordingly.
+
+Provost:
+I would do more than that, if more were needful.
+Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine,
+Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth,
+Hath blister'd her report: she is with child;
+And he that got it, sentenced; a young man
+More fit to do another such offence
+Than die for this.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+When must he die?
+
+Provost:
+As I do think, to-morrow.
+I have provided for you: stay awhile,
+And you shall be conducted.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?
+
+JULIET:
+I do; and bear the shame most patiently.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience,
+And try your penitence, if it be sound,
+Or hollowly put on.
+
+JULIET:
+I'll gladly learn.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Love you the man that wrong'd you?
+
+JULIET:
+Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+So then it seems your most offenceful act
+Was mutually committed?
+
+JULIET:
+Mutually.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.
+
+JULIET:
+I do confess it, and repent it, father.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent,
+As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
+Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven,
+Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it,
+But as we stand in fear,--
+
+JULIET:
+I do repent me, as it is an evil,
+And take the shame with joy.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+There rest.
+Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
+And I am going with instruction to him.
+Grace go with you, Benedicite!
+
+JULIET:
+Must die to-morrow! O injurious love,
+That respites me a life, whose very comfort
+Is still a dying horror!
+
+Provost:
+'Tis pity of him.
+
+ANGELO:
+When I would pray and think, I think and pray
+To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words;
+Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
+Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,
+As if I did but only chew his name;
+And in my heart the strong and swelling evil
+Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied
+Is like a good thing, being often read,
+Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
+Wherein--let no man hear me--I take pride,
+Could I with boot change for an idle plume,
+Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form,
+How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
+Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls
+To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood:
+Let's write good angel on the devil's horn:
+'Tis not the devil's crest.
+How now! who's there?
+
+Servant:
+One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you.
+
+ANGELO:
+Teach her the way.
+O heavens!
+Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
+Making both it unable for itself,
+And dispossessing all my other parts
+Of necessary fitness?
+So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
+Come all to help him, and so stop the air
+By which he should revive: and even so
+The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,
+Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
+Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
+Must needs appear offence.
+How now, fair maid?
+
+ISABELLA:
+I am come to know your pleasure.
+
+ANGELO:
+That you might know it, would much better please me
+Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Even so. Heaven keep your honour!
+
+ANGELO:
+Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be,
+As long as you or I yet he must die.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Under your sentence?
+
+ANGELO:
+Yea.
+
+ISABELLA:
+When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve,
+Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted
+That his soul sicken not.
+
+ANGELO:
+Ha! fie, these filthy vices! It were as good
+To pardon him that hath from nature stolen
+A man already made, as to remit
+Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image
+In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy
+Falsely to take away a life true made
+As to put metal in restrained means
+To make a false one.
+
+ISABELLA:
+'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
+
+ANGELO:
+Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly.
+Which had you rather, that the most just law
+Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
+Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness
+As she that he hath stain'd?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Sir, believe this,
+I had rather give my body than my soul.
+
+ANGELO:
+I talk not of your soul: our compell'd sins
+Stand more for number than for accompt.
+
+ISABELLA:
+How say you?
+
+ANGELO:
+Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
+Against the thing I say. Answer to this:
+I, now the voice of the recorded law,
+Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:
+Might there not be a charity in sin
+To save this brother's life?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Please you to do't,
+I'll take it as a peril to my soul,
+It is no sin at all, but charity.
+
+ANGELO:
+Pleased you to do't at peril of your soul,
+Were equal poise of sin and charity.
+
+ISABELLA:
+That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
+Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit,
+If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer
+To have it added to the faults of mine,
+And nothing of your answer.
+
+ANGELO:
+Nay, but hear me.
+Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
+Or seem so craftily; and that's not good.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,
+But graciously to know I am no better.
+
+ANGELO:
+Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright
+When it doth tax itself; as these black masks
+Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder
+Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me;
+To be received plain, I'll speak more gross:
+Your brother is to die.
+
+ISABELLA:
+So.
+
+ANGELO:
+And his offence is so, as it appears,
+Accountant to the law upon that pain.
+
+ISABELLA:
+True.
+
+ANGELO:
+Admit no other way to save his life,--
+As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
+But in the loss of question,--that you, his sister,
+Finding yourself desired of such a person,
+Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
+Could fetch your brother from the manacles
+Of the all-building law; and that there were
+No earthly mean to save him, but that either
+You must lay down the treasures of your body
+To this supposed, or else to let him suffer;
+What would you do?
+
+ISABELLA:
+As much for my poor brother as myself:
+That is, were I under the terms of death,
+The impression of keen whips I'ld wear as rubies,
+And strip myself to death, as to a bed
+That longing have been sick for, ere I'ld yield
+My body up to shame.
+
+ANGELO:
+Then must your brother die.
+
+ISABELLA:
+And 'twere the cheaper way:
+Better it were a brother died at once,
+Than that a sister, by redeeming him,
+Should die for ever.
+
+ANGELO:
+Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
+That you have slander'd so?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Ignomy in ransom and free pardon
+Are of two houses: lawful mercy
+Is nothing kin to foul redemption.
+
+ANGELO:
+You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;
+And rather proved the sliding of your brother
+A merriment than a vice.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
+To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean:
+I something do excuse the thing I hate,
+For his advantage that I dearly love.
+
+ANGELO:
+We are all frail.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Else let my brother die,
+If not a feodary, but only he
+Owe and succeed thy weakness.
+
+ANGELO:
+Nay, women are frail too.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
+Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
+Women! Help Heaven! men their creation mar
+In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;
+For we are soft as our complexions are,
+And credulous to false prints.
+
+ANGELO:
+I think it well:
+And from this testimony of your own sex,--
+Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger
+Than faults may shake our frames,--let me be bold;
+I do arrest your words. Be that you are,
+That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;
+If you be one, as you are well express'd
+By all external warrants, show it now,
+By putting on the destined livery.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
+Let me entreat you speak the former language.
+
+ANGELO:
+Plainly conceive, I love you.
+
+ISABELLA:
+My brother did love Juliet,
+And you tell me that he shall die for it.
+
+ANGELO:
+He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I know your virtue hath a licence in't,
+Which seems a little fouler than it is,
+To pluck on others.
+
+ANGELO:
+Believe me, on mine honour,
+My words express my purpose.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Ha! little honour to be much believed,
+And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming!
+I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
+Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
+Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud
+What man thou art.
+
+ANGELO:
+Who will believe thee, Isabel?
+My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
+My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
+Will so your accusation overweigh,
+That you shall stifle in your own report
+And smell of calumny. I have begun,
+And now I give my sensual race the rein:
+Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
+Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
+That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
+By yielding up thy body to my will;
+Or else he must not only die the death,
+But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
+To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,
+Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
+I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
+Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.
+
+ISABELLA:
+To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,
+Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
+That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
+Either of condemnation or approof;
+Bidding the law make court'sy to their will:
+Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
+To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
+Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood,
+Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour.
+That, had he twenty heads to tender down
+On twenty bloody blocks, he'ld yield them up,
+Before his sister should her body stoop
+To such abhorr'd pollution.
+Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
+More than our brother is our chastity.
+I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,
+And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+The miserable have no other medicine
+But only hope:
+I've hope to live, and am prepared to die.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Be absolute for death; either death or life
+Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:
+If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
+That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
+Servile to all the skyey influences,
+That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,
+Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
+For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun
+And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble;
+For all the accommodations that thou bear'st
+Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means valiant;
+For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
+Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
+And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear'st
+Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
+For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
+That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
+For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get,
+And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain;
+For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
+After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor;
+For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
+Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey,
+And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none;
+For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
+The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
+Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
+For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age,
+But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
+Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
+Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
+Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
+Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
+To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this
+That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
+Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
+That makes these odds all even.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+I humbly thank you.
+To sue to live, I find I seek to die;
+And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.
+
+ISABELLA:
+
+Provost:
+Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Most holy sir, I thank you.
+
+ISABELLA:
+My business is a word or two with Claudio.
+
+Provost:
+And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Provost, a word with you.
+
+Provost:
+As many as you please.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Now, sister, what's the comfort?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Why,
+As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed.
+Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
+Intends you for his swift ambassador,
+Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:
+Therefore your best appointment make with speed;
+To-morrow you set on.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Is there no remedy?
+
+ISABELLA:
+None, but such remedy as, to save a head,
+To cleave a heart in twain.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+But is there any?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Yes, brother, you may live:
+There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
+If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
+But fetter you till death.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Perpetual durance?
+
+ISABELLA:
+Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint,
+Though all the world's vastidity you had,
+To a determined scope.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+But in what nature?
+
+ISABELLA:
+In such a one as, you consenting to't,
+Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,
+And leave you naked.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Let me know the point.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
+Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,
+And six or seven winters more respect
+Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die?
+The sense of death is most in apprehension;
+And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
+In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
+As when a giant dies.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Why give you me this shame?
+Think you I can a resolution fetch
+From flowery tenderness? If I must die,
+I will encounter darkness as a bride,
+And hug it in mine arms.
+
+ISABELLA:
+There spake my brother; there my father's grave
+Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:
+Thou art too noble to conserve a life
+In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,
+Whose settled visage and deliberate word
+Nips youth i' the head and follies doth emmew
+As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil
+His filth within being cast, he would appear
+A pond as deep as hell.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+The prenzie Angelo!
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
+The damned'st body to invest and cover
+In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio?
+If I would yield him my virginity,
+Thou mightst be freed.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+O heavens! it cannot be.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence,
+So to offend him still. This night's the time
+That I should do what I abhor to name,
+Or else thou diest to-morrow.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Thou shalt not do't.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, were it but my life,
+I'ld throw it down for your deliverance
+As frankly as a pin.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Thanks, dear Isabel.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Yes. Has he affections in him,
+That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
+When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin,
+Or of the deadly seven, it is the least.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Which is the least?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+If it were damnable, he being so wise,
+Why would he for the momentary trick
+Be perdurably fined? O Isabel!
+
+ISABELLA:
+What says my brother?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Death is a fearful thing.
+
+ISABELLA:
+And shamed life a hateful.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
+To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
+This sensible warm motion to become
+A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
+To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
+In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
+To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
+And blown with restless violence round about
+The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
+Of those that lawless and incertain thought
+Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible!
+The weariest and most loathed worldly life
+That age, ache, penury and imprisonment
+Can lay on nature is a paradise
+To what we fear of death.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Alas, alas!
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Sweet sister, let me live:
+What sin you do to save a brother's life,
+Nature dispenses with the deed so far
+That it becomes a virtue.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O you beast!
+O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!
+Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
+Is't not a kind of incest, to take life
+From thine own sister's shame? What should I think?
+Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair!
+For such a warped slip of wilderness
+Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance!
+Die, perish! Might but my bending down
+Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:
+I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
+No word to save thee.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Nay, hear me, Isabel.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, fie, fie, fie!
+Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade.
+Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:
+'Tis best thou diest quickly.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+O hear me, Isabella!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.
+
+ISABELLA:
+What is your will?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and
+by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I
+would require is likewise your own benefit.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be
+stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you
+and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to
+corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her
+virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition
+of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her,
+hath made him that gracious denial which he is most
+glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I
+know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to
+death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes
+that are fallible: tomorrow you must die; go to
+your knees and make ready.
+
+CLAUDIO:
+Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love
+with life that I will sue to be rid of it.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Hold you there: farewell.
+Provost, a word with you!
+
+Provost:
+What's your will, father
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me
+awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my
+habit no loss shall touch her by my company.
+
+Provost:
+In good time.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good:
+the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty
+brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of
+your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever
+fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you,
+fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but
+that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should
+wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this
+substitute, and to save your brother?
+
+ISABELLA:
+I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my
+brother die by the law than my son should be
+unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke
+deceived in Angelo! If ever he return and I can
+speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or
+discover his government.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter
+now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made
+trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my
+advisings: to the love I have in doing good a
+remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe
+that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged
+lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from
+the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious
+person; and much please the absent duke, if
+peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of
+this business.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do
+anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have
+you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of
+Frederick the great soldier who miscarried at sea?
+
+ISABELLA:
+I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+She should this Angelo have married; was affianced
+to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between
+which time of the contract and limit of the
+solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea,
+having in that perished vessel the dowry of his
+sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the
+poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and
+renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most
+kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of
+her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her
+combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them
+with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole,
+pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few,
+bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet
+wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears,
+is washed with them, but relents not.
+
+ISABELLA:
+What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid
+from the world! What corruption in this life, that
+it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the
+cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps
+you from dishonour in doing it.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Show me how, good father.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance
+of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that
+in all reason should have quenched her love, hath,
+like an impediment in the current, made it more
+violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his
+requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with
+his demands to the point; only refer yourself to
+this advantage, first, that your stay with him may
+not be long; that the time may have all shadow and
+silence in it; and the place answer to convenience.
+This being granted in course,--and now follows
+all,--we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up
+your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter
+acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to
+her recompense: and here, by this, is your brother
+saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana
+advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid
+will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you
+think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness
+of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof.
+What think you of it?
+
+ISABELLA:
+The image of it gives me content already; and I
+trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily
+to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his
+bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will
+presently to Saint Luke's: there, at the moated
+grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that
+place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that
+it may be quickly.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father.
+
+ELBOW:
+Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will
+needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we
+shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+O heavens! what stuff is here
+
+POMPEY:
+'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the
+merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by
+order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and
+furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that
+craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.
+
+ELBOW:
+Come your way, sir. 'Bless you, good father friar.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+And you, good brother father. What offence hath
+this man made you, sir?
+
+ELBOW:
+Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we
+take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found
+upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have
+sent to the deputy.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd!
+The evil that thou causest to be done,
+That is thy means to live. Do thou but think
+What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back
+From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,
+From their abominable and beastly touches
+I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.
+Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
+So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.
+
+POMPEY:
+Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet,
+sir, I would prove--
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,
+Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer:
+Correction and instruction must both work
+Ere this rude beast will profit.
+
+ELBOW:
+He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him
+warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if
+he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were
+as good go a mile on his errand.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+That we were all, as some would seem to be,
+From our faults, as faults from seeming, free!
+
+ELBOW:
+His neck will come to your waist,--a cord, sir.
+
+POMPEY:
+I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman and a
+friend of mine.
+
+LUCIO:
+How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of
+Caesar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there
+none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be
+had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and
+extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What
+sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is't
+not drowned i' the last rain, ha? What sayest
+thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is
+the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The
+trick of it?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Still thus, and thus; still worse!
+
+LUCIO:
+How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she
+still, ha?
+
+POMPEY:
+Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she
+is herself in the tub.
+
+LUCIO:
+Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be
+so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd:
+an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going
+to prison, Pompey?
+
+POMPEY:
+Yes, faith, sir.
+
+LUCIO:
+Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I
+sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how?
+
+ELBOW:
+For being a bawd, for being a bawd.
+
+LUCIO:
+Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the
+due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he
+doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born.
+Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison,
+Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you
+will keep the house.
+
+POMPEY:
+I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail.
+
+LUCIO:
+No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear.
+I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: If
+you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the
+more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. 'Bless you, friar.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+And you.
+
+LUCIO:
+Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha?
+
+ELBOW:
+Come your ways, sir; come.
+
+POMPEY:
+You will not bail me, then, sir?
+
+LUCIO:
+Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar?
+what news?
+
+ELBOW:
+Come your ways, sir; come.
+
+LUCIO:
+Go to kennel, Pompey; go.
+What news, friar, of the duke?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I know none. Can you tell me of any?
+
+LUCIO:
+Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other
+some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well.
+
+LUCIO:
+It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from
+the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born
+to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he
+puts transgression to 't.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+He does well in 't.
+
+LUCIO:
+A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in
+him: something too crabbed that way, friar.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.
+
+LUCIO:
+Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred;
+it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp
+it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put
+down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and
+woman after this downright way of creation: is it
+true, think you?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+How should he be made, then?
+
+LUCIO:
+Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he
+was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is
+certain that when he makes water his urine is
+congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a
+motion generative; that's infallible.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace.
+
+LUCIO:
+Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the
+rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a
+man! Would the duke that is absent have done this?
+Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a
+hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing
+a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport: he
+knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I never heard the absent duke much detected for
+women; he was not inclined that way.
+
+LUCIO:
+O, sir, you are deceived.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+'Tis not possible.
+
+LUCIO:
+Who, not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and
+his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the
+duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too;
+that let me inform you.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You do him wrong, surely.
+
+LUCIO:
+Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the
+duke: and I believe I know the cause of his
+withdrawing.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+What, I prithee, might be the cause?
+
+LUCIO:
+No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be locked within the
+teeth and the lips: but this I can let you
+understand, the greater file of the subject held the
+duke to be wise.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Wise! why, no question but he was.
+
+LUCIO:
+A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Either this is the envy in you, folly, or mistaking:
+the very stream of his life and the business he hath
+helmed must upon a warranted need give him a better
+proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own
+bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the
+envious a scholar, a statesman and a soldier.
+Therefore you speak unskilfully: or if your
+knowledge be more it is much darkened in your malice.
+
+LUCIO:
+Sir, I know him, and I love him.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with
+dearer love.
+
+LUCIO:
+Come, sir, I know what I know.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I can hardly believe that, since you know not what
+you speak. But, if ever the duke return, as our
+prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your
+answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke,
+you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call
+upon you; and, I pray you, your name?
+
+LUCIO:
+Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to
+report you.
+
+LUCIO:
+I fear you not.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you
+imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I
+can do you little harm; you'll forswear this again.
+
+LUCIO:
+I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me,
+friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if
+Claudio die to-morrow or no?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Why should he die, sir?
+
+LUCIO:
+Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would
+the duke we talk of were returned again: the
+ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with
+continency; sparrows must not build in his
+house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke
+yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would
+never bring them to light: would he were returned!
+Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing.
+Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray for me. The
+duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on
+Fridays. He's not past it yet, and I say to thee,
+he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown
+bread and garlic: say that I said so. Farewell.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+No might nor greatness in mortality
+Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny
+The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong
+Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?
+But who comes here?
+
+ESCALUS:
+Go; away with her to prison!
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted
+a merciful man; good my lord.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in
+the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play
+the tyrant.
+
+Provost:
+A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please
+your honour.
+
+MISTRESS OVERDONE:
+My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me.
+Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the
+duke's time; he promised her marriage: his child
+is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob:
+I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me!
+
+ESCALUS:
+That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be
+called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to;
+no more words.
+Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered;
+Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished
+with divines, and have all charitable preparation.
+if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be
+so with him.
+
+Provost:
+So please you, this friar hath been with him, and
+advised him for the entertainment of death.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Good even, good father.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Bliss and goodness on you!
+
+ESCALUS:
+Of whence are you?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Not of this country, though my chance is now
+To use it for my time: I am a brother
+Of gracious order, late come from the See
+In special business from his holiness.
+
+ESCALUS:
+What news abroad i' the world?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+None, but that there is so great a fever on
+goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it:
+novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous
+to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous
+to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce
+truth enough alive to make societies secure; but
+security enough to make fellowships accurst: much
+upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This
+news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I
+pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke?
+
+ESCALUS:
+One that, above all other strifes, contended
+especially to know himself.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+What pleasure was he given to?
+
+ESCALUS:
+Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at
+any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a
+gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to
+his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous;
+and let me desire to know how you find Claudio
+prepared. I am made to understand that you have
+lent him visitation.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+He professes to have received no sinister measure
+from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself
+to the determination of justice: yet had he framed
+to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many
+deceiving promises of life; which I by my good
+leisure have discredited to him, and now is he
+resolved to die.
+
+ESCALUS:
+You have paid the heavens your function, and the
+prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have
+laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest
+shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I
+found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him
+he is indeed Justice.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+If his own life answer the straitness of his
+proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he
+chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Peace be with you!
+He who the sword of heaven will bear
+Should be as holy as severe;
+Pattern in himself to know,
+Grace to stand, and virtue go;
+More nor less to others paying
+Than by self-offences weighing.
+Shame to him whose cruel striking
+Kills for faults of his own liking!
+Twice treble shame on Angelo,
+To weed my vice and let his grow!
+O, what may man within him hide,
+Though angel on the outward side!
+How may likeness made in crimes,
+Making practise on the times,
+To draw with idle spiders' strings
+Most ponderous and substantial things!
+Craft against vice I must apply:
+With Angelo to-night shall lie
+His old betrothed but despised;
+So disguise shall, by the disguised,
+Pay with falsehood false exacting,
+And perform an old contracting.
+
+
+MARIANA:
+Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away:
+Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice
+Hath often still'd my brawling discontent.
+I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish
+You had not found me here so musical:
+Let me excuse me, and believe me so,
+My mirth it much displeased, but pleased my woe.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm
+To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
+I pray, you, tell me, hath any body inquired
+for me here to-day? much upon this time have
+I promised here to meet.
+
+MARIANA:
+You have not been inquired after:
+I have sat here all day.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I do constantly believe you. The time is come even
+now. I shall crave your forbearance a little: may
+be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself.
+
+MARIANA:
+I am always bound to you.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Very well met, and well come.
+What is the news from this good deputy?
+
+ISABELLA:
+He hath a garden circummured with brick,
+Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd;
+And to that vineyard is a planched gate,
+That makes his opening with this bigger key:
+This other doth command a little door
+Which from the vineyard to the garden leads;
+There have I made my promise
+Upon the heavy middle of the night
+To call upon him.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+But shall you on your knowledge find this way?
+
+ISABELLA:
+I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't:
+With whispering and most guilty diligence,
+In action all of precept, he did show me
+The way twice o'er.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Are there no other tokens
+Between you 'greed concerning her observance?
+
+ISABELLA:
+No, none, but only a repair i' the dark;
+And that I have possess'd him my most stay
+Can be but brief; for I have made him know
+I have a servant comes with me along,
+That stays upon me, whose persuasion is
+I come about my brother.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+'Tis well borne up.
+I have not yet made known to Mariana
+A word of this. What, ho! within! come forth!
+I pray you, be acquainted with this maid;
+She comes to do you good.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I do desire the like.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Do you persuade yourself that I respect you?
+
+MARIANA:
+Good friar, I know you do, and have found it.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Take, then, this your companion by the hand,
+Who hath a story ready for your ear.
+I shall attend your leisure: but make haste;
+The vaporous night approaches.
+
+MARIANA:
+Will't please you walk aside?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+O place and greatness! millions of false eyes
+Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report
+Run with these false and most contrarious quests
+Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit
+Make thee the father of their idle dreams
+And rack thee in their fancies.
+Welcome, how agreed?
+
+ISABELLA:
+She'll take the enterprise upon her, father,
+If you advise it.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+It is not my consent,
+But my entreaty too.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Little have you to say
+When you depart from him, but, soft and low,
+'Remember now my brother.'
+
+MARIANA:
+Fear me not.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all.
+He is your husband on a pre-contract:
+To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin,
+Sith that the justice of your title to him
+Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go:
+Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow.
+
+Provost:
+Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head?
+
+POMPEY:
+If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a
+married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never
+cut off a woman's head.
+
+Provost:
+Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a
+direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio
+and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common
+executioner, who in his office lacks a helper: if
+you will take it on you to assist him, it shall
+redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have
+your full time of imprisonment and your deliverance
+with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a
+notorious bawd.
+
+POMPEY:
+Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind;
+but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I
+would be glad to receive some instruction from my
+fellow partner.
+
+Provost:
+What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, there?
+
+ABHORSON:
+Do you call, sir?
+
+Provost:
+Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in
+your execution. If you think it meet, compound with
+him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if
+not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He
+cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd.
+
+ABHORSON:
+A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery.
+
+Provost:
+Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn
+the scale.
+
+POMPEY:
+Pray, sir, by your good favour,--for surely, sir, a
+good favour you have, but that you have a hanging
+look,--do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery?
+
+ABHORSON:
+Ay, sir; a mystery
+
+POMPEY:
+Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and
+your whores, sir, being members of my occupation,
+using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery:
+but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I
+should be hanged, I cannot imagine.
+
+ABHORSON:
+Sir, it is a mystery.
+
+POMPEY:
+Proof?
+
+ABHORSON:
+Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be
+too little for your thief, your true man thinks it
+big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your
+thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's
+apparel fits your thief.
+
+Provost:
+Are you agreed?
+
+POMPEY:
+Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is
+a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth
+oftener ask forgiveness.
+
+Provost:
+You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe
+to-morrow four o'clock.
+
+ABHORSON:
+Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow.
+
+POMPEY:
+I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have
+occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find
+me yare; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you
+a good turn.
+
+Provost:
+Call hither Barnardine and Claudio:
+The one has my pity; not a jot the other,
+Being a murderer, though he were my brother.
+Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death:
+'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow
+Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine?
+
+CLAUDIO:
+As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour
+When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones:
+He will not wake.
+
+Provost:
+Who can do good on him?
+Well, go, prepare yourself.
+But, hark, what noise?
+Heaven give your spirits comfort!
+By and by.
+I hope it is some pardon or reprieve
+For the most gentle Claudio.
+Welcome father.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+The best and wholesomest spirts of the night
+Envelope you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late?
+
+Provost:
+None, since the curfew rung.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Not Isabel?
+
+Provost:
+No.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+They will, then, ere't be long.
+
+Provost:
+What comfort is for Claudio?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+There's some in hope.
+
+Provost:
+It is a bitter deputy.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd
+Even with the stroke and line of his great justice:
+He doth with holy abstinence subdue
+That in himself which he spurs on his power
+To qualify in others: were he meal'd with that
+Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous;
+But this being so, he's just.
+Now are they come.
+This is a gentle provost: seldom when
+The steeled gaoler is the friend of men.
+How now! what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste
+That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes.
+
+Provost:
+There he must stay until the officer
+Arise to let him in: he is call'd up.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Have you no countermand for Claudio yet,
+But he must die to-morrow?
+
+Provost:
+None, sir, none.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+As near the dawning, provost, as it is,
+You shall hear more ere morning.
+
+Provost:
+Happily
+You something know; yet I believe there comes
+No countermand; no such example have we:
+Besides, upon the very siege of justice
+Lord Angelo hath to the public ear
+Profess'd the contrary.
+This is his lordship's man.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+And here comes Claudio's pardon.
+
+Messenger:
+
+Provost:
+I shall obey him.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+
+Provost:
+I told you. Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss
+in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted
+putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Pray you, let's hear.
+
+Provost:
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the
+afternoon?
+
+Provost:
+A Bohemian born, but here nursed un and bred; one
+that is a prisoner nine years old.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+How came it that the absent duke had not either
+delivered him to his liberty or executed him? I
+have heard it was ever his manner to do so.
+
+Provost:
+His friends still wrought reprieves for him: and,
+indeed, his fact, till now in the government of Lord
+Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+It is now apparent?
+
+Provost:
+Most manifest, and not denied by himself.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Hath he born himself penitently in prison? how
+seems he to be touched?
+
+Provost:
+A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but
+as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless
+of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of
+mortality, and desperately mortal.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+He wants advice.
+
+Provost:
+He will hear none: he hath evermore had the liberty
+of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he
+would not: drunk many times a day, if not many days
+entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if
+to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming
+warrant for it: it hath not moved him at all.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+More of him anon. There is written in your brow,
+provost, honesty and constancy: if I read it not
+truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but, in the
+boldness of my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard.
+Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is
+no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath
+sentenced him. To make you understand this in a
+manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite;
+for the which you are to do me both a present and a
+dangerous courtesy.
+
+Provost:
+Pray, sir, in what?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+In the delaying death.
+
+Provost:
+A lack, how may I do it, having the hour limited,
+and an express command, under penalty, to deliver
+his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case
+as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my
+instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine
+be this morning executed, and his head born to Angelo.
+
+Provost:
+Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+O, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it.
+Shave the head, and tie the beard; and say it was
+the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his
+death: you know the course is common. If any thing
+fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good
+fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead
+against it with my life.
+
+Provost:
+Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Were you sworn to the duke, or to the deputy?
+
+Provost:
+To him, and to his substitutes.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You will think you have made no offence, if the duke
+avouch the justice of your dealing?
+
+Provost:
+But what likelihood is in that?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see
+you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor
+persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go
+further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you.
+Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the
+duke: you know the character, I doubt not; and the
+signet is not strange to you.
+
+Provost:
+I know them both.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+The contents of this is the return of the duke: you
+shall anon over-read it at your pleasure; where you
+shall find, within these two days he will be here.
+This is a thing that Angelo knows not; for he this
+very day receives letters of strange tenor;
+perchance of the duke's death; perchance entering
+into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what
+is writ. Look, the unfolding star calls up the
+shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these
+things should be: all difficulties are but easy
+when they are known. Call your executioner, and off
+with Barnardine's head: I will give him a present
+shrift and advise him for a better place. Yet you
+are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you.
+Come away; it is almost clear dawn.
+
+POMPEY:
+I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house
+of profession: one would think it were Mistress
+Overdone's own house, for here be many of her old
+customers. First, here's young Master Rash; he's in
+for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger,
+ninescore and seventeen pounds; of which he made
+five marks, ready money: marry, then ginger was not
+much in request, for the old women were all dead.
+Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of
+Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of
+peach-coloured satin, which now peaches him a
+beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young
+Master Deep-vow, and Master Copperspur, and Master
+Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young
+Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master
+Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shooty the
+great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed
+Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great doers in
+our trade, and are now 'for the Lord's sake.'
+
+ABHORSON:
+Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.
+
+POMPEY:
+Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged.
+Master Barnardine!
+
+ABHORSON:
+What, ho, Barnardine!
+
+BARNARDINE:
+
+POMPEY:
+Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so
+good, sir, to rise and be put to death.
+
+BARNARDINE:
+
+ABHORSON:
+Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.
+
+POMPEY:
+Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are
+executed, and sleep afterwards.
+
+ABHORSON:
+Go in to him, and fetch him out.
+
+POMPEY:
+He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle.
+
+ABHORSON:
+Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
+
+POMPEY:
+Very ready, sir.
+
+BARNARDINE:
+How now, Abhorson? what's the news with you?
+
+ABHORSON:
+Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your
+prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come.
+
+BARNARDINE:
+You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not
+fitted for 't.
+
+POMPEY:
+O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night,
+and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the
+sounder all the next day.
+
+ABHORSON:
+Look you, sir; here comes your ghostly father: do
+we jest now, think you?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily
+you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort
+you and pray with you.
+
+BARNARDINE:
+Friar, not I I have been drinking hard all night,
+and I will have more time to prepare me, or they
+shall beat out my brains with billets: I will not
+consent to die this day, that's certain.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+O, sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you
+Look forward on the journey you shall go.
+
+BARNARDINE:
+I swear I will not die to-day for any man's
+persuasion.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+But hear you.
+
+BARNARDINE:
+Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me,
+come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart!
+After him, fellows; bring him to the block.
+
+Provost:
+Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+A creature unprepared, unmeet for death;
+And to transport him in the mind he is
+Were damnable.
+
+Provost:
+Here in the prison, father,
+There died this morning of a cruel fever
+One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,
+A man of Claudio's years; his beard and head
+Just of his colour. What if we do omit
+This reprobate till he were well inclined;
+And satisfy the deputy with the visage
+Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides!
+Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on
+Prefix'd by Angelo: see this be done,
+And sent according to command; whiles I
+Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.
+
+Provost:
+This shall be done, good father, presently.
+But Barnardine must die this afternoon:
+And how shall we continue Claudio,
+To save me from the danger that might come
+If he were known alive?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Let this be done.
+Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio:
+Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting
+To the under generation, you shall find
+Your safety manifested.
+
+Provost:
+I am your free dependant.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo.
+Now will I write letters to Angelo,--
+The provost, he shall bear them, whose contents
+Shall witness to him I am near at home,
+And that, by great injunctions, I am bound
+To enter publicly: him I'll desire
+To meet me at the consecrated fount
+A league below the city; and from thence,
+By cold gradation and well-balanced form,
+We shall proceed with Angelo.
+
+Provost:
+Here is the head; I'll carry it myself.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Convenient is it. Make a swift return;
+For I would commune with you of such things
+That want no ear but yours.
+
+Provost:
+I'll make all speed.
+
+ISABELLA:
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know
+If yet her brother's pardon be come hither:
+But I will keep her ignorant of her good,
+To make her heavenly comforts of despair,
+When it is least expected.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Ho, by your leave!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
+
+ISABELLA:
+The better, given me by so holy a man.
+Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+He hath released him, Isabel, from the world:
+His head is off and sent to Angelo.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Nay, but it is not so.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+It is no other: show your wisdom, daughter,
+In your close patience.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You shall not be admitted to his sight.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel!
+Injurious world! most damned Angelo!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot;
+Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven.
+Mark what I say, which you shall find
+By every syllable a faithful verity:
+The duke comes home to-morrow; nay, dry your eyes;
+One of our convent, and his confessor,
+Gives me this instance: already he hath carried
+Notice to Escalus and Angelo,
+Who do prepare to meet him at the gates,
+There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom
+In that good path that I would wish it go,
+And you shall have your bosom on this wretch,
+Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart,
+And general honour.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I am directed by you.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+This letter, then, to Friar Peter give;
+'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return:
+Say, by this token, I desire his company
+At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours
+I'll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you
+Before the duke, and to the head of Angelo
+Accuse him home and home. For my poor self,
+I am combined by a sacred vow
+And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter:
+Command these fretting waters from your eyes
+With a light heart; trust not my holy order,
+If I pervert your course. Who's here?
+
+LUCIO:
+Good even. Friar, where's the provost?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Not within, sir.
+
+LUCIO:
+O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see
+thine eyes so red: thou must be patient. I am fain
+to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare not for
+my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set
+me to 't. But they say the duke will be here
+to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother:
+if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been
+at home, he had lived.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding to your
+reports; but the best is, he lives not in them.
+
+LUCIO:
+Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do:
+he's a better woodman than thou takest him for.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well.
+
+LUCIO:
+Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee
+I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You have told me too many of him already, sir, if
+they be true; if not true, none were enough.
+
+LUCIO:
+I was once before him for getting a wench with child.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Did you such a thing?
+
+LUCIO:
+Yes, marry, did I but I was fain to forswear it;
+they would else have married me to the rotten medlar.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well.
+
+LUCIO:
+By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end:
+if bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of
+it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other.
+
+ANGELO:
+In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions
+show much like to madness: pray heaven his wisdom be
+not tainted! And why meet him at the gates, and
+redeliver our authorities there
+
+ESCALUS:
+I guess not.
+
+ANGELO:
+And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his
+entering, that if any crave redress of injustice,
+they should exhibit their petitions in the street?
+
+ESCALUS:
+He shows his reason for that: to have a dispatch of
+complaints, and to deliver us from devices
+hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand
+against us.
+
+ANGELO:
+Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed betimes
+i' the morn; I'll call you at your house: give
+notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet
+him.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I shall, sir. Fare you well.
+
+ANGELO:
+Good night.
+This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant
+And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid!
+And by an eminent body that enforced
+The law against it! But that her tender shame
+Will not proclaim against her maiden loss,
+How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no;
+For my authority bears of a credent bulk,
+That no particular scandal once can touch
+But it confounds the breather. He should have lived,
+Save that riotous youth, with dangerous sense,
+Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge,
+By so receiving a dishonour'd life
+With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had lived!
+A lack, when once our grace we have forgot,
+Nothing goes right: we would, and we would not.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+These letters at fit time deliver me
+The provost knows our purpose and our plot.
+The matter being afoot, keep your instruction,
+And hold you ever to our special drift;
+Though sometimes you do blench from this to that,
+As cause doth minister. Go call at Flavius' house,
+And tell him where I stay: give the like notice
+To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus,
+And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate;
+But send me Flavius first.
+
+FRIAR PETER:
+It shall be speeded well.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good haste:
+Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends
+Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius.
+
+ISABELLA:
+To speak so indirectly I am loath:
+I would say the truth; but to accuse him so,
+That is your part: yet I am advised to do it;
+He says, to veil full purpose.
+
+MARIANA:
+Be ruled by him.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure
+He speak against me on the adverse side,
+I should not think it strange; for 'tis a physic
+That's bitter to sweet end.
+
+MARIANA:
+I would Friar Peter--
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, peace! the friar is come.
+
+FRIAR PETER:
+Come, I have found you out a stand most fit,
+Where you may have such vantage on the duke,
+He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded;
+The generous and gravest citizens
+Have hent the gates, and very near upon
+The duke is entering: therefore, hence, away!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+My very worthy cousin, fairly met!
+Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you.
+
+ANGELO:
+Happy return be to your royal grace!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Many and hearty thankings to you both.
+We have made inquiry of you; and we hear
+Such goodness of your justice, that our soul
+Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks,
+Forerunning more requital.
+
+ANGELO:
+You make my bonds still greater.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it,
+To lock it in the wards of covert bosom,
+When it deserves, with characters of brass,
+A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time
+And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand,
+And let the subject see, to make them know
+That outward courtesies would fain proclaim
+Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus,
+You must walk by us on our other hand;
+And good supporters are you.
+
+FRIAR PETER:
+Now is your time: speak loud and kneel before him.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard
+Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid!
+O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye
+By throwing it on any other object
+Till you have heard me in my true complaint
+And given me justice, justice, justice, justice!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Relate your wrongs; in what? by whom? be brief.
+Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice:
+Reveal yourself to him.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O worthy duke,
+You bid me seek redemption of the devil:
+Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak
+Must either punish me, not being believed,
+Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O hear me, here!
+
+ANGELO:
+My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm:
+She hath been a suitor to me for her brother
+Cut off by course of justice,--
+
+ISABELLA:
+By course of justice!
+
+ANGELO:
+And she will speak most bitterly and strange.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak:
+That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange?
+That Angelo's a murderer; is 't not strange?
+That Angelo is an adulterous thief,
+An hypocrite, a virgin-violator;
+Is it not strange and strange?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Nay, it is ten times strange.
+
+ISABELLA:
+It is not truer he is Angelo
+Than this is all as true as it is strange:
+Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth
+To the end of reckoning.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Away with her! Poor soul,
+She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest
+There is another comfort than this world,
+That thou neglect me not, with that opinion
+That I am touch'd with madness! Make not impossible
+That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible
+But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
+May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute
+As Angelo; even so may Angelo,
+In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,
+Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince:
+If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more,
+Had I more name for badness.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+By mine honesty,
+If she be mad,--as I believe no other,--
+Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense,
+Such a dependency of thing on thing,
+As e'er I heard in madness.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O gracious duke,
+Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason
+For inequality; but let your reason serve
+To make the truth appear where it seems hid,
+And hide the false seems true.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Many that are not mad
+Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say?
+
+ISABELLA:
+I am the sister of one Claudio,
+Condemn'd upon the act of fornication
+To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo:
+I, in probation of a sisterhood,
+Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio
+As then the messenger,--
+
+LUCIO:
+That's I, an't like your grace:
+I came to her from Claudio, and desired her
+To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo
+For her poor brother's pardon.
+
+ISABELLA:
+That's he indeed.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You were not bid to speak.
+
+LUCIO:
+No, my good lord;
+Nor wish'd to hold my peace.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I wish you now, then;
+Pray you, take note of it: and when you have
+A business for yourself, pray heaven you then
+Be perfect.
+
+LUCIO:
+I warrant your honour.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+The warrants for yourself; take heed to't.
+
+ISABELLA:
+This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,--
+
+LUCIO:
+Right.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+It may be right; but you are i' the wrong
+To speak before your time. Proceed.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I went
+To this pernicious caitiff deputy,--
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+That's somewhat madly spoken.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Pardon it;
+The phrase is to the matter.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Mended again. The matter; proceed.
+
+ISABELLA:
+In brief, to set the needless process by,
+How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd,
+How he refell'd me, and how I replied,--
+For this was of much length,--the vile conclusion
+I now begin with grief and shame to utter:
+He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
+To his concupiscible intemperate lust,
+Release my brother; and, after much debatement,
+My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,
+And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes,
+His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
+For my poor brother's head.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+This is most likely!
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, that it were as like as it is true!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+By heaven, fond wretch, thou knowist not what thou speak'st,
+Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour
+In hateful practise. First, his integrity
+Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason
+That with such vehemency he should pursue
+Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,
+He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself
+And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on:
+Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
+Thou camest here to complain.
+
+ISABELLA:
+And is this all?
+Then, O you blessed ministers above,
+Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time
+Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up
+In countenance! Heaven shield your grace from woe,
+As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I know you'ld fain be gone. An officer!
+To prison with her! Shall we thus permit
+A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall
+On him so near us? This needs must be a practise.
+Who knew of Your intent and coming hither?
+
+ISABELLA:
+One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick?
+
+LUCIO:
+My lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling friar;
+I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord
+For certain words he spake against your grace
+In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Words against me? this is a good friar, belike!
+And to set on this wretched woman here
+Against our substitute! Let this friar be found.
+
+LUCIO:
+But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar,
+I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar,
+A very scurvy fellow.
+
+FRIAR PETER:
+Blessed be your royal grace!
+I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
+Your royal ear abused. First, hath this woman
+Most wrongfully accused your substitute,
+Who is as free from touch or soil with her
+As she from one ungot.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+We did believe no less.
+Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of?
+
+FRIAR PETER:
+I know him for a man divine and holy;
+Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler,
+As he's reported by this gentleman;
+And, on my trust, a man that never yet
+Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.
+
+LUCIO:
+My lord, most villanously; believe it.
+
+FRIAR PETER:
+Well, he in time may come to clear himself;
+But at this instant he is sick my lord,
+Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request,
+Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
+Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither,
+To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know
+Is true and false; and what he with his oath
+And all probation will make up full clear,
+Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman.
+To justify this worthy nobleman,
+So vulgarly and personally accused,
+Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,
+Till she herself confess it.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Good friar, let's hear it.
+Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?
+O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools!
+Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo;
+In this I'll be impartial; be you judge
+Of your own cause. Is this the witness, friar?
+First, let her show her face, and after speak.
+
+MARIANA:
+Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face
+Until my husband bid me.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+What, are you married?
+
+MARIANA:
+No, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Are you a maid?
+
+MARIANA:
+No, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+A widow, then?
+
+MARIANA:
+Neither, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife?
+
+LUCIO:
+My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are
+neither maid, widow, nor wife.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause
+To prattle for himself.
+
+LUCIO:
+Well, my lord.
+
+MARIANA:
+My lord; I do confess I ne'er was married;
+And I confess besides I am no maid:
+I have known my husband; yet my husband
+Knows not that ever he knew me.
+
+LUCIO:
+He was drunk then, my lord: it can be no better.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too!
+
+LUCIO:
+Well, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+This is no witness for Lord Angelo.
+
+MARIANA:
+Now I come to't my lord
+She that accuses him of fornication,
+In self-same manner doth accuse my husband,
+And charges him my lord, with such a time
+When I'll depose I had him in mine arms
+With all the effect of love.
+
+ANGELO:
+Charges she more than me?
+
+MARIANA:
+Not that I know.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+No? you say your husband.
+
+MARIANA:
+Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo,
+Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body,
+But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's.
+
+ANGELO:
+This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face.
+
+MARIANA:
+My husband bids me; now I will unmask.
+This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,
+Which once thou sworest was worth the looking on;
+This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract,
+Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body
+That took away the match from Isabel,
+And did supply thee at thy garden-house
+In her imagined person.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Know you this woman?
+
+LUCIO:
+Carnally, she says.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Sirrah, no more!
+
+LUCIO:
+Enough, my lord.
+
+ANGELO:
+My lord, I must confess I know this woman:
+And five years since there was some speech of marriage
+Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off,
+Partly for that her promised proportions
+Came short of composition, but in chief
+For that her reputation was disvalued
+In levity: since which time of five years
+I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her,
+Upon my faith and honour.
+
+MARIANA:
+Noble prince,
+As there comes light from heaven and words from breath,
+As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue,
+I am affianced this man's wife as strongly
+As words could make up vows: and, my good lord,
+But Tuesday night last gone in's garden-house
+He knew me as a wife. As this is true,
+Let me in safety raise me from my knees
+Or else for ever be confixed here,
+A marble monument!
+
+ANGELO:
+I did but smile till now:
+Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice
+My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive
+These poor informal women are no more
+But instruments of some more mightier member
+That sets them on: let me have way, my lord,
+To find this practise out.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Ay, with my heart
+And punish them to your height of pleasure.
+Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman,
+Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy oaths,
+Though they would swear down each particular saint,
+Were testimonies against his worth and credit
+That's seal'd in approbation? You, Lord Escalus,
+Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains
+To find out this abuse, whence 'tis derived.
+There is another friar that set them on;
+Let him be sent for.
+
+FRIAR PETER:
+Would he were here, my lord! for he indeed
+Hath set the women on to this complaint:
+Your provost knows the place where he abides
+And he may fetch him.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Go do it instantly.
+And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,
+Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,
+Do with your injuries as seems you best,
+In any chastisement: I for a while will leave you;
+But stir not you till you have well determined
+Upon these slanderers.
+
+ESCALUS:
+My lord, we'll do it throughly.
+Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that
+Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?
+
+LUCIO:
+'Cucullus non facit monachum:' honest in nothing
+but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most
+villanous speeches of the duke.
+
+ESCALUS:
+We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and
+enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a
+notable fellow.
+
+LUCIO:
+As any in Vienna, on my word.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Call that same Isabel here once again; I would speak with her.
+Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you
+shall see how I'll handle her.
+
+LUCIO:
+Not better than he, by her own report.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Say you?
+
+LUCIO:
+Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately,
+she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly,
+she'll be ashamed.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I will go darkly to work with her.
+
+LUCIO:
+That's the way; for women are light at midnight.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Come on, mistress: here's a gentlewoman denies all
+that you have said.
+
+LUCIO:
+My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of; here with
+the provost.
+
+ESCALUS:
+In very good time: speak not you to him till we
+call upon you.
+
+LUCIO:
+Mum.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Come, sir: did you set these women on to slander
+Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+'Tis false.
+
+ESCALUS:
+How! know you where you are?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Respect to your great place! and let the devil
+Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne!
+Where is the duke? 'tis he should hear me speak.
+
+ESCALUS:
+The duke's in us; and we will hear you speak:
+Look you speak justly.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls,
+Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox?
+Good night to your redress! Is the duke gone?
+Then is your cause gone too. The duke's unjust,
+Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
+And put your trial in the villain's mouth
+Which here you come to accuse.
+
+LUCIO:
+This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar,
+Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women
+To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth
+And in the witness of his proper ear,
+To call him villain? and then to glance from him
+To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice?
+Take him hence; to the rack with him! We'll touse you
+Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose.
+What 'unjust'!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Be not so hot; the duke
+Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he
+Dare rack his own: his subject am I not,
+Nor here provincial. My business in this state
+Made me a looker on here in Vienna,
+Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble
+Till it o'er-run the stew; laws for all faults,
+But faults so countenanced, that the strong statutes
+Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
+As much in mock as mark.
+
+ESCALUS:
+Slander to the state! Away with him to prison!
+
+ANGELO:
+What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio?
+Is this the man that you did tell us of?
+
+LUCIO:
+'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, goodman baldpate:
+do you know me?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice: I
+met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke.
+
+LUCIO:
+O, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Most notedly, sir.
+
+LUCIO:
+Do you so, sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a
+fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make
+that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and
+much more, much worse.
+
+LUCIO:
+O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the
+nose for thy speeches?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I protest I love the duke as I love myself.
+
+ANGELO:
+Hark, how the villain would close now, after his
+treasonable abuses!
+
+ESCALUS:
+Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. Away with
+him to prison! Where is the provost? Away with him
+to prison! lay bolts enough upon him: let him
+speak no more. Away with those giglots too, and
+with the other confederate companion!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+
+ANGELO:
+What, resists he? Help him, Lucio.
+
+LUCIO:
+Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you
+bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must
+you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you!
+show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour!
+Will't not off?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Thou art the first knave that e'er madest a duke.
+First, provost, let me bail these gentle three.
+Sneak not away, sir; for the friar and you
+Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him.
+
+LUCIO:
+This may prove worse than hanging.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+
+ANGELO:
+O my dread lord,
+I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,
+To think I can be undiscernible,
+When I perceive your grace, like power divine,
+Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince,
+No longer session hold upon my shame,
+But let my trial be mine own confession:
+Immediate sentence then and sequent death
+Is all the grace I beg.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Come hither, Mariana.
+Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman?
+
+ANGELO:
+I was, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Go take her hence, and marry her instantly.
+Do you the office, friar; which consummate,
+Return him here again. Go with him, provost.
+
+ESCALUS:
+My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour
+Than at the strangeness of it.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Come hither, Isabel.
+Your friar is now your prince: as I was then
+Advertising and holy to your business,
+Not changing heart with habit, I am still
+Attorney'd at your service.
+
+ISABELLA:
+O, give me pardon,
+That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd
+Your unknown sovereignty!
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You are pardon'd, Isabel:
+And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
+Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart;
+And you may marvel why I obscured myself,
+Labouring to save his life, and would not rather
+Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power
+Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid,
+It was the swift celerity of his death,
+Which I did think with slower foot came on,
+That brain'd my purpose. But, peace be with him!
+That life is better life, past fearing death,
+Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort,
+So happy is your brother.
+
+ISABELLA:
+I do, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+For this new-married man approaching here,
+Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
+Your well defended honour, you must pardon
+For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,--
+Being criminal, in double violation
+Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach
+Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,--
+The very mercy of the law cries out
+Most audible, even from his proper tongue,
+'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!'
+Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;
+Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE.
+Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested;
+Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage.
+We do condemn thee to the very block
+Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste.
+Away with him!
+
+MARIANA:
+O my most gracious lord,
+I hope you will not mock me with a husband.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+It is your husband mock'd you with a husband.
+Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,
+I thought your marriage fit; else imputation,
+For that he knew you, might reproach your life
+And choke your good to come; for his possessions,
+Although by confiscation they are ours,
+We do instate and widow you withal,
+To buy you a better husband.
+
+MARIANA:
+O my dear lord,
+I crave no other, nor no better man.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Never crave him; we are definitive.
+
+MARIANA:
+Gentle my liege,--
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+You do but lose your labour.
+Away with him to death!
+Now, sir, to you.
+
+MARIANA:
+O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part;
+Lend me your knees, and all my life to come
+I'll lend you all my life to do you service.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Against all sense you do importune her:
+Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact,
+Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break,
+And take her hence in horror.
+
+MARIANA:
+Isabel,
+Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me;
+Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all.
+They say, best men are moulded out of faults;
+And, for the most, become much more the better
+For being a little bad: so may my husband.
+O Isabel, will you not lend a knee?
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+He dies for Claudio's death.
+
+ISABELLA:
+Most bounteous sir,
+Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
+As if my brother lived: I partly think
+A due sincerity govern'd his deeds,
+Till he did look on me: since it is so,
+Let him not die. My brother had but justice,
+In that he did the thing for which he died:
+For Angelo,
+His act did not o'ertake his bad intent,
+And must be buried but as an intent
+That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects;
+Intents but merely thoughts.
+
+MARIANA:
+Merely, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say.
+I have bethought me of another fault.
+Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded
+At an unusual hour?
+
+Provost:
+It was commanded so.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Had you a special warrant for the deed?
+
+Provost:
+No, my good lord; it was by private message.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+For which I do discharge you of your office:
+Give up your keys.
+
+Provost:
+Pardon me, noble lord:
+I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;
+Yet did repent me, after more advice;
+For testimony whereof, one in the prison,
+That should by private order else have died,
+I have reserved alive.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+What's he?
+
+Provost:
+His name is Barnardine.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.
+Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him.
+
+ESCALUS:
+I am sorry, one so learned and so wise
+As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd,
+Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood.
+And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.
+
+ANGELO:
+I am sorry that such sorrow I procure:
+And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart
+That I crave death more willingly than mercy;
+'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Which is that Barnardine?
+
+Provost:
+This, my lord.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+There was a friar told me of this man.
+Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul.
+That apprehends no further than this world,
+And squarest thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd:
+But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all;
+And pray thee take this mercy to provide
+For better times to come. Friar, advise him;
+I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's that?
+
+Provost:
+This is another prisoner that I saved.
+Who should have died when Claudio lost his head;
+As like almost to Claudio as himself.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+
+LUCIO:
+'Faith, my lord. I spoke it but according to the
+trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I
+had rather it would please you I might be whipt.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Whipt first, sir, and hanged after.
+Proclaim it, provost, round about the city.
+Is any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow,
+As I have heard him swear himself there's one
+Whom he begot with child, let her appear,
+And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd,
+Let him be whipt and hang'd.
+
+LUCIO:
+I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore.
+Your highness said even now, I made you a duke:
+good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
+Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal
+Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison;
+And see our pleasure herein executed.
+
+LUCIO:
+Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death,
+whipping, and hanging.
+
+DUKE VINCENTIO:
+Slandering a prince deserves it.
+She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore.
+Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo:
+I have confess'd her and I know her virtue.
+Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness:
+There's more behind that is more gratulate.
+Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy:
+We shill employ thee in a worthier place.
+Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home
+The head of Ragozine for Claudio's:
+The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel,
+I have a motion much imports your good;
+Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline,
+What's mine is yours and what is yours is mine.
+So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show
+What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know.
+
+SLY:
+I'll pheeze you, in faith.
+
+Hostess:
+A pair of stocks, you rogue!
+
+SLY:
+Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in
+the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror.
+Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa!
+
+Hostess:
+You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?
+
+SLY:
+No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold
+bed, and warm thee.
+
+Hostess:
+I know my remedy; I must go fetch the
+third--borough.
+
+SLY:
+Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him
+by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come,
+and kindly.
+
+Lord:
+Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:
+Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd;
+And couple Clowder with the deep--mouth'd brach.
+Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
+At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault?
+I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
+
+First Huntsman:
+Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
+He cried upon it at the merest loss
+And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:
+Trust me, I take him for the better dog.
+
+Lord:
+Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet,
+I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
+But sup them well and look unto them all:
+To-morrow I intend to hunt again.
+
+First Huntsman:
+I will, my lord.
+
+Lord:
+What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?
+
+Second Huntsman:
+He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale,
+This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
+
+Lord:
+O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies!
+Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!
+Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
+What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
+Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,
+A most delicious banquet by his bed,
+And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
+Would not the beggar then forget himself?
+
+First Huntsman:
+Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
+
+Second Huntsman:
+It would seem strange unto him when he waked.
+
+Lord:
+Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy.
+Then take him up and manage well the jest:
+Carry him gently to my fairest chamber
+And hang it round with all my wanton pictures:
+Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters
+And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
+Procure me music ready when he wakes,
+To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
+And if he chance to speak, be ready straight
+And with a low submissive reverence
+Say 'What is it your honour will command?'
+Let one attend him with a silver basin
+Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers,
+Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
+And say 'Will't please your lordship cool your hands?'
+Some one be ready with a costly suit
+And ask him what apparel he will wear;
+Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
+And that his lady mourns at his disease:
+Persuade him that he hath been lunatic;
+And when he says he is, say that he dreams,
+For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
+This do and do it kindly, gentle sirs:
+It will be pastime passing excellent,
+If it be husbanded with modesty.
+
+First Huntsman:
+My lord, I warrant you we will play our part,
+As he shall think by our true diligence
+He is no less than what we say he is.
+
+Lord:
+Take him up gently and to bed with him;
+And each one to his office when he wakes.
+Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:
+Belike, some noble gentleman that means,
+Travelling some journey, to repose him here.
+How now! who is it?
+
+Servant:
+An't please your honour, players
+That offer service to your lordship.
+
+Lord:
+Bid them come near.
+Now, fellows, you are welcome.
+
+Players:
+We thank your honour.
+
+Lord:
+Do you intend to stay with me tonight?
+
+A Player:
+So please your lordship to accept our duty.
+
+Lord:
+With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
+Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son:
+'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well:
+I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
+Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd.
+
+A Player:
+I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.
+
+Lord:
+'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent.
+Well, you are come to me in a happy time;
+The rather for I have some sport in hand
+Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
+There is a lord will hear you play to-night:
+But I am doubtful of your modesties;
+Lest over-eyeing of his odd behavior,--
+For yet his honour never heard a play--
+You break into some merry passion
+And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,
+If you should smile he grows impatient.
+
+A Player:
+Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves,
+Were he the veriest antic in the world.
+
+Lord:
+Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
+And give them friendly welcome every one:
+Let them want nothing that my house affords.
+Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page,
+And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady:
+That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber;
+And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance.
+Tell him from me, as he will win my love,
+He bear himself with honourable action,
+Such as he hath observed in noble ladies
+Unto their lords, by them accomplished:
+Such duty to the drunkard let him do
+With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy,
+And say 'What is't your honour will command,
+Wherein your lady and your humble wife
+May show her duty and make known her love?'
+And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses,
+And with declining head into his bosom,
+Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd
+To see her noble lord restored to health,
+Who for this seven years hath esteem'd him
+No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
+And if the boy have not a woman's gift
+To rain a shower of commanded tears,
+An onion will do well for such a shift,
+Which in a napkin being close convey'd
+Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
+See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst:
+Anon I'll give thee more instructions.
+I know the boy will well usurp the grace,
+Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman:
+I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,
+And how my men will stay themselves from laughter
+When they do homage to this simple peasant.
+I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence
+May well abate the over-merry spleen
+Which otherwise would grow into extremes.
+
+SLY:
+For God's sake, a pot of small ale.
+
+First Servant:
+Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?
+
+Second Servant:
+Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?
+
+Third Servant:
+What raiment will your honour wear to-day?
+
+SLY:
+I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor
+'lordship:' I ne'er drank sack in my life; and if
+you give me any conserves, give me conserves of
+beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I
+have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings
+than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay,
+sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my
+toes look through the over-leather.
+
+Lord:
+Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour!
+O, that a mighty man of such descent,
+Of such possessions and so high esteem,
+Should be infused with so foul a spirit!
+
+SLY:
+What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher
+Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a
+pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a
+bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker?
+Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if
+she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence
+on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the
+lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not
+bestraught: here's--
+
+Third Servant:
+O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!
+
+Second Servant:
+O, this is it that makes your servants droop!
+
+Lord:
+Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,
+As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
+O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
+Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment
+And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
+Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
+Each in his office ready at thy beck.
+Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays,
+And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
+Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch
+Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
+On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
+Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:
+Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
+Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
+Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
+Above the morning lark or wilt thou hunt?
+Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them
+And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
+
+First Servant:
+Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift
+As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
+
+Second Servant:
+Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight
+Adonis painted by a running brook,
+And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
+Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
+Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
+
+Lord:
+We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,
+And how she was beguiled and surprised,
+As lively painted as the deed was done.
+
+Third Servant:
+Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
+Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
+And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
+So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
+
+Lord:
+Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
+Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
+Than any woman in this waning age.
+
+First Servant:
+And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
+Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face,
+She was the fairest creature in the world;
+And yet she is inferior to none.
+
+SLY:
+Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?
+Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
+I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;
+I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things:
+Upon my life, I am a lord indeed
+And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly.
+Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
+And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
+
+Second Servant:
+Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?
+O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
+O, that once more you knew but what you are!
+These fifteen years you have been in a dream;
+Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept.
+
+SLY:
+These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
+But did I never speak of all that time?
+
+First Servant:
+O, yes, my lord, but very idle words:
+For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
+Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;
+And rail upon the hostess of the house;
+And say you would present her at the leet,
+Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts:
+Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
+
+SLY:
+Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
+
+Third Servant:
+Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
+Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,
+As Stephen Sly and did John Naps of Greece
+And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell
+And twenty more such names and men as these
+Which never were nor no man ever saw.
+
+SLY:
+Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
+
+ALL:
+Amen.
+
+SLY:
+I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.
+
+Page:
+How fares my noble lord?
+
+SLY:
+Marry, I fare well for here is cheer enough.
+Where is my wife?
+
+Page:
+Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?
+
+SLY:
+Are you my wife and will not call me husband?
+My men should call me 'lord:' I am your goodman.
+
+Page:
+My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
+I am your wife in all obedience.
+
+SLY:
+I know it well. What must I call her?
+
+Lord:
+Madam.
+
+SLY:
+Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?
+
+Lord:
+'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords
+call ladies.
+
+SLY:
+Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd
+And slept above some fifteen year or more.
+
+Page:
+Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
+Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.
+
+SLY:
+'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.
+Madam, undress you and come now to bed.
+
+Page:
+Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
+To pardon me yet for a night or two,
+Or, if not so, until the sun be set:
+For your physicians have expressly charged,
+In peril to incur your former malady,
+That I should yet absent me from your bed:
+I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
+
+SLY:
+Ay, it stands so that I may hardly
+tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into
+my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in
+despite of the flesh and the blood.
+
+Messenger:
+Your honour's players, heating your amendment,
+Are come to play a pleasant comedy;
+For so your doctors hold it very meet,
+Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
+And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:
+Therefore they thought it good you hear a play
+And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
+Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
+
+SLY:
+Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a
+comondy a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?
+
+Page:
+No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.
+
+SLY:
+What, household stuff?
+
+Page:
+It is a kind of history.
+
+SLY:
+Well, well see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side
+and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Tranio, since for the great desire I had
+To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
+I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy,
+The pleasant garden of great Italy;
+And by my father's love and leave am arm'd
+With his good will and thy good company,
+My trusty servant, well approved in all,
+Here let us breathe and haply institute
+A course of learning and ingenious studies.
+Pisa renown'd for grave citizens
+Gave me my being and my father first,
+A merchant of great traffic through the world,
+Vincetino come of Bentivolii.
+Vincetino's son brought up in Florence
+It shall become to serve all hopes conceived,
+To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
+And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
+Virtue and that part of philosophy
+Will I apply that treats of happiness
+By virtue specially to be achieved.
+Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left
+And am to Padua come, as he that leaves
+A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep
+And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
+
+TRANIO:
+Mi perdonato, gentle master mine,
+I am in all affected as yourself;
+Glad that you thus continue your resolve
+To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy.
+Only, good master, while we do admire
+This virtue and this moral discipline,
+Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray;
+Or so devote to Aristotle's cheques
+As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured:
+Balk logic with acquaintance that you have
+And practise rhetoric in your common talk;
+Music and poesy use to quicken you;
+The mathematics and the metaphysics,
+Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you;
+No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en:
+In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
+If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
+We could at once put us in readiness,
+And take a lodging fit to entertain
+Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.
+But stay a while: what company is this?
+
+TRANIO:
+Master, some show to welcome us to town.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Gentlemen, importune me no farther,
+For how I firmly am resolved you know;
+That is, not bestow my youngest daughter
+Before I have a husband for the elder:
+If either of you both love Katharina,
+Because I know you well and love you well,
+Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
+
+GREMIO:
+
+KATHARINA:
+I pray you, sir, is it your will
+To make a stale of me amongst these mates?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you,
+Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear:
+I wis it is not half way to her heart;
+But if it were, doubt not her care should be
+To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool
+And paint your face and use you like a fool.
+
+HORTENSIA:
+From all such devils, good Lord deliver us!
+
+GREMIO:
+And me too, good Lord!
+
+TRANIO:
+Hush, master! here's some good pastime toward:
+That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+But in the other's silence do I see
+Maid's mild behavior and sobriety.
+Peace, Tranio!
+
+TRANIO:
+Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
+What I have said, Bianca, get you in:
+And let it not displease thee, good Bianca,
+For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.
+
+KATHARINA:
+A pretty peat! it is best
+Put finger in the eye, an she knew why.
+
+BIANCA:
+Sister, content you in my discontent.
+Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:
+My books and instruments shall be my company,
+On them to took and practise by myself.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Hark, Tranio! thou may'st hear Minerva speak.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?
+Sorry am I that our good will effects
+Bianca's grief.
+
+GREMIO:
+Why will you mew her up,
+Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
+And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolved:
+Go in, Bianca:
+And for I know she taketh most delight
+In music, instruments and poetry,
+Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
+Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,
+Or Signior Gremio, you, know any such,
+Prefer them hither; for to cunning men
+I will be very kind, and liberal
+To mine own children in good bringing up:
+And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay;
+For I have more to commune with Bianca.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What,
+shall I be appointed hours; as though, belike, I
+knew not what to take and what to leave, ha?
+
+GREMIO:
+You may go to the devil's dam: your gifts are so
+good, here's none will hold you. Their love is not
+so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails
+together, and fast it fairly out: our cakes dough on
+both sides. Farewell: yet for the love I bear my
+sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit
+man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will
+wish him to her father.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray.
+Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked
+parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both,
+that we may yet again have access to our fair
+mistress and be happy rivals in Bianco's love, to
+labour and effect one thing specially.
+
+GREMIO:
+What's that, I pray?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister.
+
+GREMIO:
+A husband! a devil.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+I say, a husband.
+
+GREMIO:
+I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though
+her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool
+to be married to hell?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience and mine
+to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good
+fellows in the world, an a man could light on them,
+would take her with all faults, and money enough.
+
+GREMIO:
+I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with
+this condition, to be whipped at the high cross
+every morning.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten
+apples. But come; since this bar in law makes us
+friends, it shall be so far forth friendly
+maintained all by helping Baptista's eldest daughter
+to a husband we set his youngest free for a husband,
+and then have to't a fresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy man
+be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring.
+How say you, Signior Gremio?
+
+GREMIO:
+I am agreed; and would I had given him the best
+horse in Padua to begin his wooing that would
+thoroughly woo her, wed her and bed her and rid the
+house of her! Come on.
+
+TRANIO:
+I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible
+That love should of a sudden take such hold?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+O Tranio, till I found it to be true,
+I never thought it possible or likely;
+But see, while idly I stood looking on,
+I found the effect of love in idleness:
+And now in plainness do confess to thee,
+That art to me as secret and as dear
+As Anna to the queen of Carthage was,
+Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,
+If I achieve not this young modest girl.
+Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst;
+Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.
+
+TRANIO:
+Master, it is no time to chide you now;
+Affection is not rated from the heart:
+If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so,
+'Redime te captum quam queas minimo.'
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Gramercies, lad, go forward; this contents:
+The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.
+
+TRANIO:
+Master, you look'd so longly on the maid,
+Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face,
+Such as the daughter of Agenor had,
+That made great Jove to humble him to her hand.
+When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand.
+
+TRANIO:
+Saw you no more? mark'd you not how her sister
+Began to scold and raise up such a storm
+That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move
+And with her breath she did perfume the air:
+Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.
+
+TRANIO:
+Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his trance.
+I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid,
+Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands:
+Her eldest sister is so curst and shrewd
+That till the father rid his hands of her,
+Master, your love must live a maid at home;
+And therefore has he closely mew'd her up,
+Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he!
+But art thou not advised, he took some care
+To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her?
+
+TRANIO:
+Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+I have it, Tranio.
+
+TRANIO:
+Master, for my hand,
+Both our inventions meet and jump in one.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Tell me thine first.
+
+TRANIO:
+You will be schoolmaster
+And undertake the teaching of the maid:
+That's your device.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+It is: may it be done?
+
+TRANIO:
+Not possible; for who shall bear your part,
+And be in Padua here Vincentio's son,
+Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends,
+Visit his countrymen and banquet them?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Basta; content thee, for I have it full.
+We have not yet been seen in any house,
+Nor can we lie distinguish'd by our faces
+For man or master; then it follows thus;
+Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead,
+Keep house and port and servants as I should:
+I will some other be, some Florentine,
+Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.
+'Tis hatch'd and shall be so: Tranio, at once
+Uncase thee; take my colour'd hat and cloak:
+When Biondello comes, he waits on thee;
+But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.
+
+TRANIO:
+So had you need.
+In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is,
+And I am tied to be obedient;
+For so your father charged me at our parting,
+'Be serviceable to my son,' quoth he,
+Although I think 'twas in another sense;
+I am content to be Lucentio,
+Because so well I love Lucentio.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves:
+And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid
+Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye.
+Here comes the rogue.
+Sirrah, where have you been?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you?
+Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your clothes? Or
+you stolen his? or both? pray, what's the news?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no time to jest,
+And therefore frame your manners to the time.
+Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,
+Puts my apparel and my countenance on,
+And I for my escape have put on his;
+For in a quarrel since I came ashore
+I kill'd a man and fear I was descried:
+Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,
+While I make way from hence to save my life:
+You understand me?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+I, sir! ne'er a whit.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth:
+Tranio is changed into Lucentio.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+The better for him: would I were so too!
+
+TRANIO:
+So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,
+That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter.
+But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your master's, I advise
+You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies:
+When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio;
+But in all places else your master Lucentio.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Tranio, let's go: one thing more rests, that
+thyself execute, to make one among these wooers: if
+thou ask me why, sufficeth, my reasons are both good
+and weighty.
+
+First Servant:
+My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play.
+
+SLY:
+Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely:
+comes there any more of it?
+
+Page:
+My lord, 'tis but begun.
+
+SLY:
+'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady:
+would 'twere done!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Verona, for a while I take my leave,
+To see my friends in Padua, but of all
+My best beloved and approved friend,
+Hortensio; and I trow this is his house.
+Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is there man has
+rebused your worship?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Knock you here, sir! why, sir, what am I, sir, that
+I should knock you here, sir?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Villain, I say, knock me at this gate
+And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate.
+
+GRUMIO:
+My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock
+you first,
+And then I know after who comes by the worst.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Will it not be?
+Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll ring it;
+I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Help, masters, help! my master is mad.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain!
+
+HORTENSIO:
+How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio!
+and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?
+'Con tutto il cuore, ben trovato,' may I say.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+'Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor
+mio Petruchio.' Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound
+this quarrel.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges in Latin.
+if this be not a lawful case for me to leave his
+service, look you, sir, he bid me knock him and rap
+him soundly, sir: well, was it fit for a servant to
+use his master so, being perhaps, for aught I see,
+two and thirty, a pip out? Whom would to God I had
+well knock'd at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+A senseless villain! Good Hortensio,
+I bade the rascal knock upon your gate
+And could not get him for my heart to do it.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these
+words plain, 'Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here,
+knock me well, and knock me soundly'? And come you
+now with, 'knocking at the gate'?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge:
+Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you,
+Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.
+And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale
+Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Such wind as scatters young men through the world,
+To seek their fortunes farther than at home
+Where small experience grows. But in a few,
+Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:
+Antonio, my father, is deceased;
+And I have thrust myself into this maze,
+Haply to wive and thrive as best I may:
+Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home,
+And so am come abroad to see the world.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee
+And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife?
+Thou'ldst thank me but a little for my counsel:
+And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich
+And very rich: but thou'rt too much my friend,
+And I'll not wish thee to her.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we
+Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know
+One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife,
+As wealth is burden of my wooing dance,
+Be she as foul as was Florentius' love,
+As old as Sibyl and as curst and shrewd
+As Socrates' Xanthippe, or a worse,
+She moves me not, or not removes, at least,
+Affection's edge in me, were she as rough
+As are the swelling Adriatic seas:
+I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;
+If wealthily, then happily in Padua.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his
+mind is: Why give him gold enough and marry him to
+a puppet or an aglet-baby; or an old trot with ne'er
+a tooth in her head, though she have as many diseases
+as two and fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss,
+so money comes withal.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Petruchio, since we are stepp'd thus far in,
+I will continue that I broach'd in jest.
+I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife
+With wealth enough and young and beauteous,
+Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman:
+Her only fault, and that is faults enough,
+Is that she is intolerable curst
+And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure
+That, were my state far worser than it is,
+I would not wed her for a mine of gold.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Hortensio, peace! thou know'st not gold's effect:
+Tell me her father's name and 'tis enough;
+For I will board her, though she chide as loud
+As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Her father is Baptista Minola,
+An affable and courteous gentleman:
+Her name is Katharina Minola,
+Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I know her father, though I know not her;
+And he knew my deceased father well.
+I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her;
+And therefore let me be thus bold with you
+To give you over at this first encounter,
+Unless you will accompany me thither.
+
+GRUMIO:
+I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts.
+O' my word, an she knew him as well as I do, she
+would think scolding would do little good upon him:
+she may perhaps call him half a score knaves or so:
+why, that's nothing; an he begin once, he'll rail in
+his rope-tricks. I'll tell you what sir, an she
+stand him but a little, he will throw a figure in
+her face and so disfigure her with it that she
+shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat.
+You know him not, sir.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee,
+For in Baptista's keep my treasure is:
+He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
+His youngest daughter, beautiful Binaca,
+And her withholds from me and other more,
+Suitors to her and rivals in my love,
+Supposing it a thing impossible,
+For those defects I have before rehearsed,
+That ever Katharina will be woo'd;
+Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,
+That none shall have access unto Bianca
+Till Katharina the curst have got a husband.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Katharina the curst!
+A title for a maid of all titles the worst.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,
+And offer me disguised in sober robes
+To old Baptista as a schoolmaster
+Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca;
+That so I may, by this device, at least
+Have leave and leisure to make love to her
+And unsuspected court her by herself.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks,
+how the young folks lay their heads together!
+Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Peace, Grumio! it is the rival of my love.
+Petruchio, stand by a while.
+
+GRUMIO:
+A proper stripling and an amorous!
+
+GREMIO:
+O, very well; I have perused the note.
+Hark you, sir: I'll have them very fairly bound:
+All books of love, see that at any hand;
+And see you read no other lectures to her:
+You understand me: over and beside
+Signior Baptista's liberality,
+I'll mend it with a largess. Take your paper too,
+And let me have them very well perfumed
+For she is sweeter than perfume itself
+To whom they go to. What will you read to her?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you
+As for my patron, stand you so assured,
+As firmly as yourself were still in place:
+Yea, and perhaps with more successful words
+Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.
+
+GREMIO:
+O this learning, what a thing it is!
+
+GRUMIO:
+O this woodcock, what an ass it is!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Peace, sirrah!
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio.
+
+GREMIO:
+And you are well met, Signior Hortensio.
+Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola.
+I promised to inquire carefully
+About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca:
+And by good fortune I have lighted well
+On this young man, for learning and behavior
+Fit for her turn, well read in poetry
+And other books, good ones, I warrant ye.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman
+Hath promised me to help me to another,
+A fine musician to instruct our mistress;
+So shall I no whit be behind in duty
+To fair Bianca, so beloved of me.
+
+GREMIO:
+Beloved of me; and that my deeds shall prove.
+
+GRUMIO:
+And that his bags shall prove.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love:
+Listen to me, and if you speak me fair,
+I'll tell you news indifferent good for either.
+Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,
+Upon agreement from us to his liking,
+Will undertake to woo curst Katharina,
+Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.
+
+GREMIO:
+So said, so done, is well.
+Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I know she is an irksome brawling scold:
+If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.
+
+GREMIO:
+No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Born in Verona, old Antonio's son:
+My father dead, my fortune lives for me;
+And I do hope good days and long to see.
+
+GREMIO:
+O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange!
+But if you have a stomach, to't i' God's name:
+You shall have me assisting you in all.
+But will you woo this wild-cat?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Will I live?
+
+GRUMIO:
+Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why came I hither but to that intent?
+Think you a little din can daunt mine ears?
+Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
+Have I not heard the sea puff'd up with winds
+Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?
+Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
+And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
+Have I not in a pitched battle heard
+Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang?
+And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,
+That gives not half so great a blow to hear
+As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire?
+Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs.
+
+GRUMIO:
+For he fears none.
+
+GREMIO:
+Hortensio, hark:
+This gentleman is happily arrived,
+My mind presumes, for his own good and ours.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+I promised we would be contributors
+And bear his charging of wooing, whatsoe'er.
+
+GREMIO:
+And so we will, provided that he win her.
+
+GRUMIO:
+I would I were as sure of a good dinner.
+
+TRANIO:
+Gentlemen, God save you. If I may be bold,
+Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way
+To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+He that has the two fair daughters: is't he you mean?
+
+TRANIO:
+Even he, Biondello.
+
+GREMIO:
+Hark you, sir; you mean not her to--
+
+TRANIO:
+Perhaps, him and her, sir: what have you to do?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray.
+
+TRANIO:
+I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Well begun, Tranio.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Sir, a word ere you go;
+Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no?
+
+TRANIO:
+And if I be, sir, is it any offence?
+
+GREMIO:
+No; if without more words you will get you hence.
+
+TRANIO:
+Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free
+For me as for you?
+
+GREMIO:
+But so is not she.
+
+TRANIO:
+For what reason, I beseech you?
+
+GREMIO:
+For this reason, if you'll know,
+That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio.
+
+TRANIO:
+Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen,
+Do me this right; hear me with patience.
+Baptista is a noble gentleman,
+To whom my father is not all unknown;
+And were his daughter fairer than she is,
+She may more suitors have and me for one.
+Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers;
+Then well one more may fair Bianca have:
+And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one,
+Though Paris came in hope to speed alone.
+
+GREMIO:
+What! this gentleman will out-talk us all.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Sir, give him head: I know he'll prove a jade.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Hortensio, to what end are all these words?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,
+Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?
+
+TRANIO:
+No, sir; but hear I do that he hath two,
+The one as famous for a scolding tongue
+As is the other for beauteous modesty.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by.
+
+GREMIO:
+Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules;
+And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Sir, understand you this of me in sooth:
+The youngest daughter whom you hearken for
+Her father keeps from all access of suitors,
+And will not promise her to any man
+Until the elder sister first be wed:
+The younger then is free and not before.
+
+TRANIO:
+If it be so, sir, that you are the man
+Must stead us all and me amongst the rest,
+And if you break the ice and do this feat,
+Achieve the elder, set the younger free
+For our access, whose hap shall be to have her
+Will not so graceless be to be ingrate.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Sir, you say well and well you do conceive;
+And since you do profess to be a suitor,
+You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,
+To whom we all rest generally beholding.
+
+TRANIO:
+Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof,
+Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,
+And quaff carouses to our mistress' health,
+And do as adversaries do in law,
+Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
+
+GRUMIO:
+O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+The motion's good indeed and be it so,
+Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto.
+
+BIANCA:
+Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
+To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;
+That I disdain: but for these other gawds,
+Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself,
+Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;
+Or what you will command me will I do,
+So well I know my duty to my elders.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell
+Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not.
+
+BIANCA:
+Believe me, sister, of all the men alive
+I never yet beheld that special face
+Which I could fancy more than any other.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio?
+
+BIANCA:
+If you affect him, sister, here I swear
+I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have
+him.
+
+KATHARINA:
+O then, belike, you fancy riches more:
+You will have Gremio to keep you fair.
+
+BIANCA:
+Is it for him you do envy me so?
+Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive
+You have but jested with me all this while:
+I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.
+
+KATHARINA:
+If that be jest, then all the rest was so.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?
+Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps.
+Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.
+For shame, thou helding of a devilish spirit,
+Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee?
+When did she cross thee with a bitter word?
+
+KATHARINA:
+Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.
+
+KATHARINA:
+What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see
+She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
+I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day
+And for your love to her lead apes in hell.
+Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep
+Till I can find occasion of revenge.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I?
+But who comes here?
+
+GREMIO:
+Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.
+God save you, gentlemen!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
+Call'd Katharina, fair and virtuous?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina.
+
+GREMIO:
+You are too blunt: go to it orderly.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave.
+I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,
+That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,
+Her affability and bashful modesty,
+Her wondrous qualities and mild behavior,
+Am bold to show myself a forward guest
+Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
+Of that report which I so oft have heard.
+And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
+I do present you with a man of mine,
+Cunning in music and the mathematics,
+To instruct her fully in those sciences,
+Whereof I know she is not ignorant:
+Accept of him, or else you do me wrong:
+His name is Licio, born in Mantua.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake.
+But for my daughter Katharina, this I know,
+She is not for your turn, the more my grief.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I see you do not mean to part with her,
+Or else you like not of my company.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Mistake me not; I speak but as I find.
+Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son,
+A man well known throughout all Italy.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.
+
+GREMIO:
+Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
+Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
+Baccare! you are marvellous forward.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing.
+
+GREMIO:
+I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your
+wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am
+sure of it. To express the like kindness, myself,
+that have been more kindly beholding to you than
+any, freely give unto you this young scholar,
+that hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning
+in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other
+in music and mathematics: his name is Cambio; pray,
+accept his service.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio.
+Welcome, good Cambio.
+But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger:
+may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?
+
+TRANIO:
+Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own,
+That, being a stranger in this city here,
+Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,
+Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous.
+Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,
+In the preferment of the eldest sister.
+This liberty is all that I request,
+That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
+I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo
+And free access and favour as the rest:
+And, toward the education of your daughters,
+I here bestow a simple instrument,
+And this small packet of Greek and Latin books:
+If you accept them, then their worth is great.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray?
+
+TRANIO:
+Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+A mighty man of Pisa; by report
+I know him well: you are very welcome, sir,
+Take you the lute, and you the set of books;
+You shall go see your pupils presently.
+Holla, within!
+Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
+To my daughters; and tell them both,
+These are their tutors: bid them use them well.
+We will go walk a little in the orchard,
+And then to dinner. You are passing welcome,
+And so I pray you all to think yourselves.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
+And every day I cannot come to woo.
+You knew my father well, and in him me,
+Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
+Which I have better'd rather than decreased:
+Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
+What dowry shall I have with her to wife?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+After my death the one half of my lands,
+And in possession twenty thousand crowns.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of
+Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,
+In all my lands and leases whatsoever:
+Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,
+That covenants may be kept on either hand.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
+That is, her love; for that is all in all.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father,
+I am as peremptory as she proud-minded;
+And where two raging fires meet together
+They do consume the thing that feeds their fury:
+Though little fire grows great with little wind,
+Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
+So I to her and so she yields to me;
+For I am rough and woo not like a babe.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!
+But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
+That shake not, though they blow perpetually.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+What, will my daughter prove a good musician?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+I think she'll sooner prove a soldier
+Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
+I did but tell her she mistook her frets,
+And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering;
+When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
+'Frets, call you these?' quoth she; 'I'll fume
+with them:'
+And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
+And through the instrument my pate made way;
+And there I stood amazed for a while,
+As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
+While she did call me rascal fiddler
+And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,
+As had she studied to misuse me so.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
+I love her ten times more than e'er I did:
+O, how I long to have some chat with her!
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Well, go with me and be not so discomfited:
+Proceed in practise with my younger daughter;
+She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns.
+Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,
+Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I pray you do.
+I will attend her here,
+And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
+Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain
+She sings as sweetly as a nightingale:
+Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear
+As morning roses newly wash'd with dew:
+Say she be mute and will not speak a word;
+Then I'll commend her volubility,
+And say she uttereth piercing eloquence:
+If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
+As though she bid me stay by her a week:
+If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
+When I shall ask the banns and when be married.
+But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.
+Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
+They call me Katharina that do talk of me.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate,
+And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst;
+But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom
+Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
+For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate,
+Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;
+Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
+Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
+Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
+Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither
+Remove you hence: I knew you at the first
+You were a moveable.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, what's a moveable?
+
+KATHARINA:
+A join'd-stool.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Women are made to bear, and so are you.
+
+KATHARINA:
+No such jade as you, if me you mean.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee;
+For, knowing thee to be but young and light--
+
+KATHARINA:
+Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
+And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Should be! should--buzz!
+
+KATHARINA:
+Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?
+
+KATHARINA:
+Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.
+
+KATHARINA:
+If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+My remedy is then, to pluck it out.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies,
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Who knows not where a wasp does
+wear his sting? In his tail.
+
+KATHARINA:
+In his tongue.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Whose tongue?
+
+KATHARINA:
+Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,
+Good Kate; I am a gentleman.
+
+KATHARINA:
+That I'll try.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.
+
+KATHARINA:
+So may you lose your arms:
+If you strike me, you are no gentleman;
+And if no gentleman, why then no arms.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!
+
+KATHARINA:
+What is your crest? a coxcomb?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
+
+KATHARINA:
+No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.
+
+KATHARINA:
+It is my fashion, when I see a crab.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour.
+
+KATHARINA:
+There is, there is.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Then show it me.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Had I a glass, I would.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+What, you mean my face?
+
+KATHARINA:
+Well aim'd of such a young one.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Yet you are wither'd.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+'Tis with cares.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I care not.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle.
+'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen,
+And now I find report a very liar;
+For thou are pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,
+But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers:
+Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance,
+Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
+Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk,
+But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
+With gentle conference, soft and affable.
+Why does the world report that Kate doth limp?
+O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig
+Is straight and slender and as brown in hue
+As hazel nuts and sweeter than the kernels.
+O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Did ever Dian so become a grove
+As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
+O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;
+And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful!
+
+KATHARINA:
+Where did you study all this goodly speech?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
+
+KATHARINA:
+A witty mother! witless else her son.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Am I not wise?
+
+KATHARINA:
+Yes; keep you warm.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharina, in thy bed:
+And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
+Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented
+That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on;
+And, Will you, nill you, I will marry you.
+Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn;
+For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
+Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well,
+Thou must be married to no man but me;
+For I am he am born to tame you Kate,
+And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate
+Conformable as other household Kates.
+Here comes your father: never make denial;
+I must and will have Katharina to my wife.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+How but well, sir? how but well?
+It were impossible I should speed amiss.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Why, how now, daughter Katharina! in your dumps?
+
+KATHARINA:
+Call you me daughter? now, I promise you
+You have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
+To wish me wed to one half lunatic;
+A mad-cup ruffian and a swearing Jack,
+That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world,
+That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her:
+If she be curst, it is for policy,
+For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
+She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
+For patience she will prove a second Grissel,
+And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:
+And to conclude, we have 'greed so well together,
+That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.
+
+GREMIO:
+Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee
+hang'd first.
+
+TRANIO:
+Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself:
+If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?
+'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
+That she shall still be curst in company.
+I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
+How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate!
+She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
+She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
+That in a twink she won me to her love.
+O, you are novices! 'tis a world to see,
+How tame, when men and women are alone,
+A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
+Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
+To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.
+Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;
+I will be sure my Katharina shall be fine.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+I know not what to say: but give me your hands;
+God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.
+
+GREMIO:
+Amen, say we: we will be witnesses.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
+I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace:
+We will have rings and things and fine array;
+And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'Sunday.
+
+GREMIO:
+Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
+And venture madly on a desperate mart.
+
+TRANIO:
+'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you:
+'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+The gain I seek is, quiet in the match.
+
+GREMIO:
+No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.
+But now, Baptists, to your younger daughter:
+Now is the day we long have looked for:
+I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.
+
+TRANIO:
+And I am one that love Bianca more
+Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
+
+GREMIO:
+Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.
+
+TRANIO:
+Graybeard, thy love doth freeze.
+
+GREMIO:
+But thine doth fry.
+Skipper, stand back: 'tis age that nourisheth.
+
+TRANIO:
+But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Content you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife:
+'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he of both
+That can assure my daughter greatest dower
+Shall have my Bianca's love.
+Say, Signior Gremio, What can you assure her?
+
+GREMIO:
+First, as you know, my house within the city
+Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
+Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
+My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
+In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
+In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,
+Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
+Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
+Valance of Venice gold in needlework,
+Pewter and brass and all things that belong
+To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm
+I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
+Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls,
+And all things answerable to this portion.
+Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
+And if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
+If whilst I live she will be only mine.
+
+TRANIO:
+That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me:
+I am my father's heir and only son:
+If I may have your daughter to my wife,
+I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
+Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
+Old Signior Gremio has in Padua;
+Besides two thousand ducats by the year
+Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.
+What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?
+
+GREMIO:
+Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
+My land amounts not to so much in all:
+That she shall have; besides an argosy
+That now is lying in Marseilles' road.
+What, have I choked you with an argosy?
+
+TRANIO:
+Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less
+Than three great argosies; besides two galliases,
+And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her,
+And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.
+
+GREMIO:
+Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more;
+And she can have no more than all I have:
+If you like me, she shall have me and mine.
+
+TRANIO:
+Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
+By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+I must confess your offer is the best;
+And, let your father make her the assurance,
+She is your own; else, you must pardon me,
+if you should die before him, where's her dower?
+
+TRANIO:
+That's but a cavil: he is old, I young.
+
+GREMIO:
+And may not young men die, as well as old?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Well, gentlemen,
+I am thus resolved: on Sunday next you know
+My daughter Katharina is to be married:
+Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
+Be bride to you, if you this assurance;
+If not, Signior Gremio:
+And so, I take my leave, and thank you both.
+
+GREMIO:
+Adieu, good neighbour.
+Now I fear thee not:
+Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool
+To give thee all, and in his waning age
+Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy!
+An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy.
+
+TRANIO:
+A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
+Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.
+'Tis in my head to do my master good:
+I see no reason but supposed Lucentio
+Must get a father, call'd 'supposed Vincentio;'
+And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
+Do get their children; but in this case of wooing,
+A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:
+Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
+Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+But, wrangling pedant, this is
+The patroness of heavenly harmony:
+Then give me leave to have prerogative;
+And when in music we have spent an hour,
+Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Preposterous ass, that never read so far
+To know the cause why music was ordain'd!
+Was it not to refresh the mind of man
+After his studies or his usual pain?
+Then give me leave to read philosophy,
+And while I pause, serve in your harmony.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
+
+BIANCA:
+Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
+To strive for that which resteth in my choice:
+I am no breeching scholar in the schools;
+I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times,
+But learn my lessons as I please myself.
+And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:
+Take you your instrument, play you the whiles;
+His lecture will be done ere you have tuned.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+That will be never: tune your instrument.
+
+BIANCA:
+Where left we last?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Here, madam:
+'Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus;
+Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.'
+
+BIANCA:
+Construe them.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+'Hic ibat,' as I told you before, 'Simois,' I am
+Lucentio, 'hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa,
+'Sigeia tellus,' disguised thus to get your love;
+'Hic steterat,' and that Lucentio that comes
+a-wooing, 'Priami,' is my man Tranio, 'regia,'
+bearing my port, 'celsa senis,' that we might
+beguile the old pantaloon.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Madam, my instrument's in tune.
+
+BIANCA:
+Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.
+
+BIANCA:
+Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat
+Simois,' I know you not, 'hic est Sigeia tellus,' I
+trust you not; 'Hic steterat Priami,' take heed
+he hear us not, 'regia,' presume not, 'celsa senis,'
+despair not.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Madam, 'tis now in tune.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+All but the base.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars.
+How fiery and forward our pedant is!
+Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love:
+Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.
+
+BIANCA:
+In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Mistrust it not: for, sure, AEacides
+Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather.
+
+BIANCA:
+I must believe my master; else, I promise you,
+I should be arguing still upon that doubt:
+But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you:
+Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray,
+That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+You may go walk, and give me leave a while:
+My lessons make no music in three parts.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait,
+And watch withal; for, but I be deceived,
+Our fine musician groweth amorous.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Madam, before you touch the instrument,
+To learn the order of my fingering,
+I must begin with rudiments of art;
+To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
+More pleasant, pithy and effectual,
+Than hath been taught by any of my trade:
+And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.
+
+BIANCA:
+Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
+
+BIANCA:
+
+Servant:
+Mistress, your father prays you leave your books
+And help to dress your sister's chamber up:
+You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.
+
+BIANCA:
+Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+But I have cause to pry into this pedant:
+Methinks he looks as though he were in love:
+Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble
+To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale,
+Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging,
+Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+
+KATHARINA:
+No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forced
+To give my hand opposed against my heart
+Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen;
+Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure.
+I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
+Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior:
+And, to be noted for a merry man,
+He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
+Make feasts, invite friends, and proclaim the banns;
+Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
+Now must the world point at poor Katharina,
+And say, 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
+If it would please him come and marry her!'
+
+TRANIO:
+Patience, good Katharina, and Baptista too.
+Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
+Whatever fortune stays him from his word:
+Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
+Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Would Katharina had never seen him though!
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
+For such an injury would vex a very saint,
+Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Master, master! news, old news, and such news as
+you never heard of!
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Is it new and old too? how may that be?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Is he come?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Why, no, sir.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+What then?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+He is coming.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+When will he be here?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+When he stands where I am and sees you there.
+
+TRANIO:
+But say, what to thine old news?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old
+jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turned, a pair
+of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled,
+another laced, an old rusty sword ta'en out of the
+town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless;
+with two broken points: his horse hipped with an
+old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred;
+besides, possessed with the glanders and like to mose
+in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected
+with the fashions, full of wingdalls, sped with
+spavins, rayed with yellows, past cure of the fives,
+stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the
+bots, swayed in the back and shoulder-shotten;
+near-legged before and with, a half-chequed bit
+and a head-stall of sheeps leather which, being
+restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been
+often burst and now repaired with knots; one girth
+six time pieced and a woman's crupper of velure,
+which hath two letters for her name fairly set down
+in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Who comes with him?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned
+like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a
+kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red
+and blue list; an old hat and 'the humour of forty
+fancies' pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a
+very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian
+footboy or a gentleman's lackey.
+
+TRANIO:
+'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;
+Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Why, sir, he comes not.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Didst thou not say he comes?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Who? that Petruchio came?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Ay, that Petruchio came.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Why, that's all one.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Nay, by Saint Jamy,
+I hold you a penny,
+A horse and a man
+Is more than one,
+And yet not many.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Come, where be these gallants? who's at home?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+You are welcome, sir.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+And yet I come not well.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+And yet you halt not.
+
+TRANIO:
+Not so well apparell'd
+As I wish you were.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Were it better, I should rush in thus.
+But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride?
+How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown:
+And wherefore gaze this goodly company,
+As if they saw some wondrous monument,
+Some comet or unusual prodigy?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day:
+First were we sad, fearing you would not come;
+Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
+Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate,
+An eye-sore to our solemn festival!
+
+TRANIO:
+And tells us, what occasion of import
+Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
+And sent you hither so unlike yourself?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:
+Sufficeth I am come to keep my word,
+Though in some part enforced to digress;
+Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse
+As you shall well be satisfied withal.
+But where is Kate? I stay too long from her:
+The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church.
+
+TRANIO:
+See not your bride in these unreverent robes:
+Go to my chamber; Put on clothes of mine.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Not I, believe me: thus I'll visit her.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with words:
+To me she's married, not unto my clothes:
+Could I repair what she will wear in me,
+As I can change these poor accoutrements,
+'Twere well for Kate and better for myself.
+But what a fool am I to chat with you,
+When I should bid good morrow to my bride,
+And seal the title with a lovely kiss!
+
+TRANIO:
+He hath some meaning in his mad attire:
+We will persuade him, be it possible,
+To put on better ere he go to church.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+I'll after him, and see the event of this.
+
+TRANIO:
+But to her love concerneth us to add
+Her father's liking: which to bring to pass,
+As I before unparted to your worship,
+I am to get a man,--whate'er he be,
+It skills not much. we'll fit him to our turn,--
+And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa;
+And make assurance here in Padua
+Of greater sums than I have promised.
+So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,
+And marry sweet Bianca with consent.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Were it not that my fellow-school-master
+Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly,
+'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage;
+Which once perform'd, let all the world say no,
+I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world.
+
+TRANIO:
+That by degrees we mean to look into,
+And watch our vantage in this business:
+We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio,
+The narrow-prying father, Minola,
+The quaint musician, amorous Licio;
+All for my master's sake, Lucentio.
+Signior Gremio, came you from the church?
+
+GREMIO:
+As willingly as e'er I came from school.
+
+TRANIO:
+And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?
+
+GREMIO:
+A bridegroom say you? 'tis a groom indeed,
+A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
+
+TRANIO:
+Curster than she? why, 'tis impossible.
+
+GREMIO:
+Why he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.
+
+TRANIO:
+Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.
+
+GREMIO:
+Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him!
+I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest
+Should ask, if Katharina should be his wife,
+'Ay, by gogs-wouns,' quoth he; and swore so loud,
+That, all-amazed, the priest let fall the book;
+And, as he stoop'd again to take it up,
+The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff
+That down fell priest and book and book and priest:
+'Now take them up,' quoth he, 'if any list.'
+
+TRANIO:
+What said the wench when he rose again?
+
+GREMIO:
+Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp'd and swore,
+As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
+But after many ceremonies done,
+He calls for wine: 'A health!' quoth he, as if
+He had been aboard, carousing to his mates
+After a storm; quaff'd off the muscadel
+And threw the sops all in the sexton's face;
+Having no other reason
+But that his beard grew thin and hungerly
+And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking.
+This done, he took the bride about the neck
+And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack
+That at the parting all the church did echo:
+And I seeing this came thence for very shame;
+And after me, I know, the rout is coming.
+Such a mad marriage never was before:
+Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains:
+I know you think to dine with me to-day,
+And have prepared great store of wedding cheer;
+But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
+And therefore here I mean to take my leave.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Is't possible you will away to-night?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I must away to-day, before night come:
+Make it no wonder; if you knew my business,
+You would entreat me rather go than stay.
+And, honest company, I thank you all,
+That have beheld me give away myself
+To this most patient, sweet and virtuous wife:
+Dine with my father, drink a health to me;
+For I must hence; and farewell to you all.
+
+TRANIO:
+Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+It may not be.
+
+GREMIO:
+Let me entreat you.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+It cannot be.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Let me entreat you.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I am content.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Are you content to stay?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I am content you shall entreat me stay;
+But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Now, if you love me, stay.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Grumio, my horse.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Ay, sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten the horses.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Nay, then,
+Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;
+No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself.
+The door is open, sir; there lies your way;
+You may be jogging whiles your boots are green;
+For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself:
+'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom,
+That take it on you at the first so roundly.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+O Kate, content thee; prithee, be not angry.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I will be angry: what hast thou to do?
+Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.
+
+GREMIO:
+Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work.
+
+KATARINA:
+Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner:
+I see a woman may be made a fool,
+If she had not a spirit to resist.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.
+Obey the bride, you that attend on her;
+Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
+Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
+Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves:
+But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
+Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;
+I will be master of what is mine own:
+She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,
+My household stuff, my field, my barn,
+My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;
+And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;
+I'll bring mine action on the proudest he
+That stops my way in Padua. Grumio,
+Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves;
+Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.
+Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch
+thee, Kate:
+I'll buckler thee against a million.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.
+
+GREMIO:
+Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.
+
+TRANIO:
+Of all mad matches never was the like.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister?
+
+BIANCA:
+That, being mad herself, she's madly mated.
+
+GREMIO:
+I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Neighbours and friends, though bride and
+bridegroom wants
+For to supply the places at the table,
+You know there wants no junkets at the feast.
+Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place:
+And let Bianca take her sister's room.
+
+TRANIO:
+Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and
+all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever
+man so rayed? was ever man so weary? I am sent
+before to make a fire, and they are coming after to
+warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soon
+hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my
+tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my
+belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me: but
+I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for,
+considering the weather, a taller man than I will
+take cold. Holla, ho! Curtis.
+
+CURTIS:
+Who is that calls so coldly?
+
+GRUMIO:
+A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide
+from my shoulder to my heel with no greater a run
+but my head and my neck. A fire good Curtis.
+
+CURTIS:
+Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?
+
+GRUMIO:
+O, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire; cast
+on no water.
+
+CURTIS:
+Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported?
+
+GRUMIO:
+She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but, thou
+knowest, winter tames man, woman and beast; for it
+hath tamed my old master and my new mistress and
+myself, fellow Curtis.
+
+CURTIS:
+Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is a foot; and
+so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a
+fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress,
+whose hand, she being now at hand, thou shalt soon
+feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office?
+
+CURTIS:
+I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world?
+
+GRUMIO:
+A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and
+therefore fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for
+my master and mistress are almost frozen to death.
+
+CURTIS:
+There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Why, 'Jack, boy! ho! boy!' and as much news as
+will thaw.
+
+CURTIS:
+Come, you are so full of cony-catching!
+
+GRUMIO:
+Why, therefore fire; for I have caught extreme cold.
+Where's the cook? is supper ready, the house
+trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the
+serving-men in their new fustian, their white
+stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on?
+Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without,
+the carpets laid, and every thing in order?
+
+CURTIS:
+All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news.
+
+GRUMIO:
+First, know, my horse is tired; my master and
+mistress fallen out.
+
+CURTIS:
+How?
+
+GRUMIO:
+Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby
+hangs a tale.
+
+CURTIS:
+Let's ha't, good Grumio.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Lend thine ear.
+
+CURTIS:
+Here.
+
+GRUMIO:
+There.
+
+CURTIS:
+This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.
+
+GRUMIO:
+And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale: and this
+cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech
+listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a
+foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress,--
+
+CURTIS:
+Both of one horse?
+
+GRUMIO:
+What's that to thee?
+
+CURTIS:
+Why, a horse.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me,
+thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she
+under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how
+miry a place, how she was bemoiled, how he left her
+with the horse upon her, how he beat me because
+her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt
+to pluck him off me, how he swore, how she prayed,
+that never prayed before, how I cried, how the
+horses ran away, how her bridle was burst, how I
+lost my crupper, with many things of worthy memory,
+which now shall die in oblivion and thou return
+unexperienced to thy grave.
+
+CURTIS:
+By this reckoning he is more shrew than she.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Ay; and that thou and the proudest of you all shall
+find when he comes home. But what talk I of this?
+Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip,
+Walter, Sugarsop and the rest: let their heads be
+sleekly combed their blue coats brushed and their
+garters of an indifferent knit: let them curtsy
+with their left legs and not presume to touch a hair
+of my master's horse-tail till they kiss their
+hands. Are they all ready?
+
+CURTIS:
+They are.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Call them forth.
+
+CURTIS:
+Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to
+countenance my mistress.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Why, she hath a face of her own.
+
+CURTIS:
+Who knows not that?
+
+GRUMIO:
+Thou, it seems, that calls for company to
+countenance her.
+
+CURTIS:
+I call them forth to credit her.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.
+
+NATHANIEL:
+Welcome home, Grumio!
+
+PHILIP:
+How now, Grumio!
+
+JOSEPH:
+What, Grumio!
+
+NICHOLAS:
+Fellow Grumio!
+
+NATHANIEL:
+How now, old lad?
+
+GRUMIO:
+Welcome, you;--how now, you;-- what, you;--fellow,
+you;--and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce
+companions, is all ready, and all things neat?
+
+NATHANIEL:
+All things is ready. How near is our master?
+
+GRUMIO:
+E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be
+not--Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Where be these knaves? What, no man at door
+To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse!
+Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip?
+
+ALL SERVING-MEN:
+Here, here, sir; here, sir.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir!
+You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms!
+What, no attendance? no regard? no duty?
+Where is the foolish knave I sent before?
+
+GRUMIO:
+Here, sir; as foolish as I was before.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge!
+Did I not bid thee meet me in the park,
+And bring along these rascal knaves with thee?
+
+GRUMIO:
+Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made,
+And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel;
+There was no link to colour Peter's hat,
+And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing:
+There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;
+The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly;
+Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.
+Where is the life that late I led--
+Where are those--Sit down, Kate, and welcome.--
+Sound, sound, sound, sound!
+Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
+Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when?
+It was the friar of orders grey,
+As he forth walked on his way:--
+Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry:
+Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.
+Be merry, Kate. Some water, here; what, ho!
+Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence,
+And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:
+One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with.
+Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water?
+Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily.
+You whoreson villain! will you let it fall?
+
+KATHARINA:
+Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+A whoreson beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave!
+Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach.
+Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I?
+What's this? mutton?
+
+First Servant:
+Ay.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Who brought it?
+
+PETER:
+I.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat.
+What dogs are these! Where is the rascal cook?
+How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,
+And serve it thus to me that love it not?
+Theretake it to you, trenchers, cups, and all;
+You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves!
+What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet:
+The meat was well, if you were so contented.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away;
+And I expressly am forbid to touch it,
+For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
+And better 'twere that both of us did fast,
+Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,
+Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
+Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended,
+And, for this night, we'll fast for company:
+Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber.
+
+NATHANIEL:
+Peter, didst ever see the like?
+
+PETER:
+He kills her in her own humour.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Where is he?
+
+CURTIS:
+In her chamber, making a sermon of continency to her;
+And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul,
+Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak,
+And sits as one new-risen from a dream.
+Away, away! for he is coming hither.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Thus have I politicly begun my reign,
+And 'tis my hope to end successfully.
+My falcon now is sharp and passing empty;
+And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged,
+For then she never looks upon her lure.
+Another way I have to man my haggard,
+To make her come and know her keeper's call,
+That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites
+That bate and beat and will not be obedient.
+She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;
+Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not;
+As with the meat, some undeserved fault
+I'll find about the making of the bed;
+And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
+This way the coverlet, another way the sheets:
+Ay, and amid this hurly I intend
+That all is done in reverend care of her;
+And in conclusion she shall watch all night:
+And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl
+And with the clamour keep her still awake.
+This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;
+And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.
+He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
+Now let him speak: 'tis charity to show.
+
+TRANIO:
+Is't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca
+Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?
+I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,
+Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?
+
+BIANCA:
+What, master, read you? first resolve me that.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+I read that I profess, the Art to Love.
+
+BIANCA:
+And may you prove, sir, master of your art!
+
+LUCENTIO:
+While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me, I pray,
+You that durst swear at your mistress Bianca
+Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio.
+
+TRANIO:
+O despiteful love! unconstant womankind!
+I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Mistake no more: I am not Licio,
+Nor a musician, as I seem to be;
+But one that scorn to live in this disguise,
+For such a one as leaves a gentleman,
+And makes a god of such a cullion:
+Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio.
+
+TRANIO:
+Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
+Of your entire affection to Bianca;
+And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
+I will with you, if you be so contented,
+Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio,
+Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow
+Never to woo her no more, but do forswear her,
+As one unworthy all the former favours
+That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.
+
+TRANIO:
+And here I take the unfeigned oath,
+Never to marry with her though she would entreat:
+Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him!
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Would all the world but he had quite forsworn!
+For me, that I may surely keep mine oath,
+I will be married to a wealthy widow,
+Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me
+As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard.
+And so farewell, Signior Lucentio.
+Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
+Shall win my love: and so I take my leave,
+In resolution as I swore before.
+
+TRANIO:
+Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
+As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case!
+Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love,
+And have forsworn you with Hortensio.
+
+BIANCA:
+Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me?
+
+TRANIO:
+Mistress, we have.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Then we are rid of Licio.
+
+TRANIO:
+I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
+That shall be wood and wedded in a day.
+
+BIANCA:
+God give him joy!
+
+TRANIO:
+Ay, and he'll tame her.
+
+BIANCA:
+He says so, Tranio.
+
+TRANIO:
+Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.
+
+BIANCA:
+The taming-school! what, is there such a place?
+
+TRANIO:
+Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master;
+That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,
+To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+O master, master, I have watch'd so long
+That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied
+An ancient angel coming down the hill,
+Will serve the turn.
+
+TRANIO:
+What is he, Biondello?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Master, a mercatante, or a pedant,
+I know not what; but format in apparel,
+In gait and countenance surely like a father.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+And what of him, Tranio?
+
+TRANIO:
+If he be credulous and trust my tale,
+I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio,
+And give assurance to Baptista Minola,
+As if he were the right Vincentio
+Take in your love, and then let me alone.
+
+Pedant:
+God save you, sir!
+
+TRANIO:
+And you, sir! you are welcome.
+Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?
+
+Pedant:
+Sir, at the farthest for a week or two:
+But then up farther, and as for as Rome;
+And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.
+
+TRANIO:
+What countryman, I pray?
+
+Pedant:
+Of Mantua.
+
+TRANIO:
+Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid!
+And come to Padua, careless of your life?
+
+Pedant:
+My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.
+
+TRANIO:
+'Tis death for any one in Mantua
+To come to Padua. Know you not the cause?
+Your ships are stay'd at Venice, and the duke,
+For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him,
+Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
+'Tis, marvel, but that you are but newly come,
+You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.
+
+Pedant:
+Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so;
+For I have bills for money by exchange
+From Florence and must here deliver them.
+
+TRANIO:
+Well, sir, to do you courtesy,
+This will I do, and this I will advise you:
+First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?
+
+Pedant:
+Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been,
+Pisa renowned for grave citizens.
+
+TRANIO:
+Among them know you one Vincentio?
+
+Pedant:
+I know him not, but I have heard of him;
+A merchant of incomparable wealth.
+
+TRANIO:
+He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say,
+In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+
+TRANIO:
+To save your life in this extremity,
+This favour will I do you for his sake;
+And think it not the worst of an your fortunes
+That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
+His name and credit shall you undertake,
+And in my house you shall be friendly lodged:
+Look that you take upon you as you should;
+You understand me, sir: so shall you stay
+Till you have done your business in the city:
+If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.
+
+Pedant:
+O sir, I do; and will repute you ever
+The patron of my life and liberty.
+
+TRANIO:
+Then go with me to make the matter good.
+This, by the way, I let you understand;
+my father is here look'd for every day,
+To pass assurance of a dower in marriage
+'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here:
+In all these circumstances I'll instruct you:
+Go with me to clothe you as becomes you.
+
+GRUMIO:
+No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life.
+
+KATHARINA:
+The more my wrong, the more his spite appears:
+What, did he marry me to famish me?
+Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
+Upon entreaty have a present aims;
+If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
+But I, who never knew how to entreat,
+Nor never needed that I should entreat,
+Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep,
+With oath kept waking and with brawling fed:
+And that which spites me more than all these wants,
+He does it under name of perfect love;
+As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
+'Twere deadly sickness or else present death.
+I prithee go and get me some repast;
+I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
+
+GRUMIO:
+What say you to a neat's foot?
+
+KATHARINA:
+'Tis passing good: I prithee let me have it.
+
+GRUMIO:
+I fear it is too choleric a meat.
+How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?
+
+KATHARINA:
+I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me.
+
+GRUMIO:
+I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric.
+What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
+
+KATHARINA:
+A dish that I do love to feed upon.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard,
+Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Why then, the mustard without the beef.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
+That feed'st me with the very name of meat:
+Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you,
+That triumph thus upon my misery!
+Go, get thee gone, I say.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Mistress, what cheer?
+
+KATHARINA:
+Faith, as cold as can be.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me.
+Here love; thou see'st how diligent I am
+To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee:
+I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
+What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not;
+And all my pains is sorted to no proof.
+Here, take away this dish.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I pray you, let it stand.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+The poorest service is repaid with thanks;
+And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I thank you, sir.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame.
+Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+
+Haberdasher:
+Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, this was moulded on a porringer;
+A velvet dish: fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy:
+Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,
+A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap:
+Away with it! come, let me have a bigger.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I'll have no bigger: this doth fit the time,
+And gentlewomen wear such caps as these
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+When you are gentle, you shall have one too,
+And not till then.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+
+KATHARINA:
+Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak;
+And speak I will; I am no child, no babe:
+Your betters have endured me say my mind,
+And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
+My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
+Or else my heart concealing it will break,
+And rather than it shall, I will be free
+Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap,
+A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie:
+I love thee well, in that thou likest it not.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Love me or love me not, I like the cap;
+And it I will have, or I will have none.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't.
+O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here?
+What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
+What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart?
+Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
+Like to a censer in a barber's shop:
+Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+
+Tailor:
+You bid me make it orderly and well,
+According to the fashion and the time.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd,
+I did not bid you mar it to the time.
+Go, hop me over every kennel home,
+For you shall hop without my custom, sir:
+I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I never saw a better-fashion'd gown,
+More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:
+Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.
+
+Tailor:
+She says your worship means to make
+a puppet of her.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread,
+thou thimble,
+Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail!
+Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou!
+Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread?
+Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
+Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard
+As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest!
+I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
+
+Tailor:
+Your worship is deceived; the gown is made
+Just as my master had direction:
+Grumio gave order how it should be done.
+
+GRUMIO:
+I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.
+
+Tailor:
+But how did you desire it should be made?
+
+GRUMIO:
+Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
+
+Tailor:
+But did you not request to have it cut?
+
+GRUMIO:
+Thou hast faced many things.
+
+Tailor:
+I have.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not
+me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto
+thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did
+not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest.
+
+Tailor:
+Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Read it.
+
+GRUMIO:
+The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.
+
+Tailor:
+
+GRUMIO:
+Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in
+the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom
+of brown thread: I said a gown.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Proceed.
+
+Tailor:
+
+GRUMIO:
+I confess the cape.
+
+Tailor:
+
+GRUMIO:
+I confess two sleeves.
+
+Tailor:
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Ay, there's the villany.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill.
+I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and
+sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee,
+though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.
+
+Tailor:
+This is true that I say: an I had thee
+in place where, thou shouldst know it.
+
+GRUMIO:
+I am for thee straight: take thou the
+bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.
+
+GRUMIO:
+You are i' the right, sir: 'tis for my mistress.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Go, take it up unto thy master's use.
+
+GRUMIO:
+Villain, not for thy life: take up my mistress'
+gown for thy master's use!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, sir, what's your conceit in that?
+
+GRUMIO:
+O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:
+Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use!
+O, fie, fie, fie!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow:
+Take no unkindness of his hasty words:
+Away! I say; commend me to thy master.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's
+Even in these honest mean habiliments:
+Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
+For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
+And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
+So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
+What is the jay more precious than the lark,
+Because his fathers are more beautiful?
+Or is the adder better than the eel,
+Because his painted skin contents the eye?
+O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
+For this poor furniture and mean array.
+if thou account'st it shame. lay it on me;
+And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith,
+To feast and sport us at thy father's house.
+Go, call my men, and let us straight to him;
+And bring our horses unto Long-lane end;
+There will we mount, and thither walk on foot
+Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock,
+And well we may come there by dinner-time.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two;
+And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+It shall be seven ere I go to horse:
+Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
+You are still crossing it. Sirs, let't alone:
+I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
+It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+
+TRANIO:
+Sir, this is the house: please it you that I call?
+
+Pedant:
+Ay, what else? and but I be deceived
+Signior Baptista may remember me,
+Near twenty years ago, in Genoa,
+Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus.
+
+TRANIO:
+'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case,
+With such austerity as 'longeth to a father.
+
+Pedant:
+I warrant you.
+But, sir, here comes your boy;
+'Twere good he were school'd.
+
+TRANIO:
+Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello,
+Now do your duty throughly, I advise you:
+Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Tut, fear not me.
+
+TRANIO:
+But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+I told him that your father was at Venice,
+And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.
+
+TRANIO:
+Thou'rt a tall fellow: hold thee that to drink.
+Here comes Baptista: set your countenance, sir.
+Signior Baptista, you are happily met.
+Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of:
+I pray you stand good father to me now,
+Give me Bianca for my patrimony.
+
+Pedant:
+Soft son!
+Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua
+To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
+Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
+Of love between your daughter and himself:
+And, for the good report I hear of you
+And for the love he beareth to your daughter
+And she to him, to stay him not too long,
+I am content, in a good father's care,
+To have him match'd; and if you please to like
+No worse than I, upon some agreement
+Me shall you find ready and willing
+With one consent to have her so bestow'd;
+For curious I cannot be with you,
+Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Sir, pardon me in what I have to say:
+Your plainness and your shortness please me well.
+Right true it is, your son Lucentio here
+Doth love my daughter and she loveth him,
+Or both dissemble deeply their affections:
+And therefore, if you say no more than this,
+That like a father you will deal with him
+And pass my daughter a sufficient dower,
+The match is made, and all is done:
+Your son shall have my daughter with consent.
+
+TRANIO:
+I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best
+We be affied and such assurance ta'en
+As shall with either part's agreement stand?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know,
+Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants:
+Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still;
+And happily we might be interrupted.
+
+TRANIO:
+Then at my lodging, an it like you:
+There doth my father lie; and there, this night,
+We'll pass the business privately and well.
+Send for your daughter by your servant here:
+My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
+The worst is this, that, at so slender warning,
+You are like to have a thin and slender pittance.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+It likes me well. Biondello, hie you home,
+And bid Bianca make her ready straight;
+And, if you will, tell what hath happened,
+Lucentio's father is arrived in Padua,
+And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+I pray the gods she may with all my heart!
+
+TRANIO:
+Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.
+Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way?
+Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer:
+Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+I follow you.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Cambio!
+
+LUCENTIO:
+What sayest thou, Biondello?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+You saw my master wink and laugh upon you?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Biondello, what of that?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind, to
+expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+I pray thee, moralize them.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the
+deceiving father of a deceitful son.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+And what of him?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+And then?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+The old priest of Saint Luke's church is at your
+command at all hours.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+And what of all this?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+I cannot tell; expect they are busied about a
+counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her,
+'cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum:' to the
+church; take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient
+honest witnesses: If this be not that you look for,
+I have no more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for
+ever and a day.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Hearest thou, Biondello?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an
+afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to
+stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir: and so, adieu,
+sir. My master hath appointed me to go to Saint
+Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come against
+you come with your appendix.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+I may, and will, if she be so contented:
+She will be pleased; then wherefore should I doubt?
+Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her:
+It shall go hard if Cambio go without her.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Come on, i' God's name; once more toward our father's.
+Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!
+
+KATHARINA:
+The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I say it is the moon that shines so bright.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I know it is the sun that shines so bright.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself,
+It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
+Or ere I journey to your father's house.
+Go on, and fetch our horses back again.
+Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd!
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Say as he says, or we shall never go.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
+And be it moon, or sun, or what you please:
+An if you please to call it a rush-candle,
+Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I say it is the moon.
+
+KATHARINA:
+I know it is the moon.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun:
+But sun it is not, when you say it is not;
+And the moon changes even as your mind.
+What you will have it named, even that it is;
+And so it shall be so for Katharina.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run,
+And not unluckily against the bias.
+But, soft! company is coming here.
+Good morrow, gentle mistress: where away?
+Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
+Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
+Such war of white and red within her cheeks!
+What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,
+As those two eyes become that heavenly face?
+Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee.
+Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+A' will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,
+Whither away, or where is thy abode?
+Happy the parents of so fair a child;
+Happier the man, whom favourable stars
+Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:
+This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd,
+And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
+That have been so bedazzled with the sun
+That everything I look on seemeth green:
+Now I perceive thou art a reverend father;
+Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Do, good old grandsire; and withal make known
+Which way thou travellest: if along with us,
+We shall be joyful of thy company.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Fair sir, and you my merry mistress,
+That with your strange encounter much amazed me,
+My name is call'd Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa;
+And bound I am to Padua; there to visit
+A son of mine, which long I have not seen.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+What is his name?
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Lucentio, gentle sir.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Happily we met; the happier for thy son.
+And now by law, as well as reverend age,
+I may entitle thee my loving father:
+The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,
+Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not,
+Nor be grieved: she is of good esteem,
+Her dowery wealthy, and of worthy birth;
+Beside, so qualified as may beseem
+The spouse of any noble gentleman.
+Let me embrace with old Vincentio,
+And wander we to see thy honest son,
+Who will of thy arrival be full joyous.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+But is it true? or else is it your pleasure,
+Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest
+Upon the company you overtake?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+I do assure thee, father, so it is.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;
+For our first merriment hath made thee jealous.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart.
+Have to my widow! and if she be froward,
+Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee
+at home; therefore leave us.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back; and
+then come back to my master's as soon as I can.
+
+GREMIO:
+I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house:
+My father's bears more toward the market-place;
+Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+You shall not choose but drink before you go:
+I think I shall command your welcome here,
+And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward.
+
+GREMIO:
+They're busy within; you were best knock louder.
+
+Pedant:
+What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate?
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Is Signior Lucentio within, sir?
+
+Pedant:
+He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to
+make merry withal?
+
+Pedant:
+Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall
+need none, so long as I live.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua.
+Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances,
+I pray you, tell Signior Lucentio that his father is
+come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him.
+
+Pedant:
+Thou liest: his father is come from Padua and here
+looking out at the window.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Art thou his father?
+
+Pedant:
+Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+
+Pedant:
+Lay hands on the villain: I believe a' means to
+cozen somebody in this city under my countenance.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+I have seen them in the church together: God send
+'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old
+master Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Hope I may choose, sir.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I
+never saw you before in all my life.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see
+thy master's father, Vincentio?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir:
+see where he looks out of the window.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Is't so, indeed.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me.
+
+Pedant:
+Help, son! help, Signior Baptista!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of
+this controversy.
+
+TRANIO:
+Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant?
+
+VINCENTIO:
+What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal
+gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet
+hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I
+am undone! I am undone! while I play the good
+husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at
+the university.
+
+TRANIO:
+How now! what's the matter?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+What, is the man lunatic?
+
+TRANIO:
+Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your
+habit, but your words show you a madman. Why, sir,
+what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold? I
+thank my good father, I am able to maintain it.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. Pray, what do
+you think is his name?
+
+VINCENTIO:
+His name! as if I knew not his name: I have brought
+him up ever since he was three years old, and his
+name is Tranio.
+
+Pedant:
+Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio and he is
+mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! Lay hold
+on him, I charge you, in the duke's name. O, my
+son, my son! Tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio?
+
+TRANIO:
+Call forth an officer.
+Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista,
+I charge you see that he be forthcoming.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Carry me to the gaol!
+
+GREMIO:
+Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison.
+
+GREMIO:
+Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be
+cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this
+is the right Vincentio.
+
+Pedant:
+Swear, if thou darest.
+
+GREMIO:
+Nay, I dare not swear it.
+
+TRANIO:
+Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio.
+
+GREMIO:
+Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Away with the dotard! to the gaol with him!
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Thus strangers may be hailed and abused: O
+monstrous villain!
+
+BIONDELLO:
+O! we are spoiled and--yonder he is: deny him,
+forswear him, or else we are all undone.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Lives my sweet son?
+
+BIANCA:
+Pardon, dear father.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+How hast thou offended?
+Where is Lucentio?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Here's Lucentio,
+Right son to the right Vincentio;
+That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,
+While counterfeit supposes bleared thine eyne.
+
+GREMIO:
+Here's packing, with a witness to deceive us all!
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Where is that damned villain Tranio,
+That faced and braved me in this matter so?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio?
+
+BIANCA:
+Cambio is changed into Lucentio.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love
+Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
+While he did bear my countenance in the town;
+And happily I have arrived at the last
+Unto the wished haven of my bliss.
+What Tranio did, myself enforced him to;
+Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent
+me to the gaol.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+But do you hear, sir? have you married my daughter
+without asking my good will?
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to: but
+I will in, to be revenged for this villany.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+And I, to sound the depth of this knavery.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown.
+
+GREMIO:
+My cake is dough; but I'll in among the rest,
+Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this ado.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
+
+KATHARINA:
+What, in the midst of the street?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+What, art thou ashamed of me?
+
+KATHARINA:
+No, sir, God forbid; but ashamed to kiss.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, then let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's away.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate:
+Better once than never, for never too late.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+At last, though long, our jarring notes agree:
+And time it is, when raging war is done,
+To smile at scapes and perils overblown.
+My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome,
+While I with self-same kindness welcome thine.
+Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina,
+And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow,
+Feast with the best, and welcome to my house:
+My banquet is to close our stomachs up,
+After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down;
+For now we sit to chat as well as eat.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat!
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Padua affords nothing but what is kind.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+For both our sakes, I would that word were true.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow.
+
+Widow:
+Then never trust me, if I be afeard.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense:
+I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you.
+
+Widow:
+He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Roundly replied.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Mistress, how mean you that?
+
+Widow:
+Thus I conceive by him.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+My widow says, thus she conceives her tale.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow.
+
+KATHARINA:
+'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round:'
+I pray you, tell me what you meant by that.
+
+Widow:
+Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,
+Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe:
+And now you know my meaning,
+
+KATHARINA:
+A very mean meaning.
+
+Widow:
+Right, I mean you.
+
+KATHARINA:
+And I am mean indeed, respecting you.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+To her, Kate!
+
+HORTENSIO:
+To her, widow!
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+That's my office.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Spoke like an officer; ha' to thee, lad!
+
+BAPTISTA:
+How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks?
+
+GREMIO:
+Believe me, sir, they butt together well.
+
+BIANCA:
+Head, and butt! an hasty-witted body
+Would say your head and butt were head and horn.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you?
+
+BIANCA:
+Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Nay, that you shall not: since you have begun,
+Have at you for a bitter jest or two!
+
+BIANCA:
+Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush;
+And then pursue me as you draw your bow.
+You are welcome all.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio.
+This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not;
+Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd.
+
+TRANIO:
+O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound,
+Which runs himself and catches for his master.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+A good swift simile, but something currish.
+
+TRANIO:
+'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself:
+'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+A' has a little gall'd me, I confess;
+And, as the jest did glance away from me,
+'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,
+I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Well, I say no: and therefore for assurance
+Let's each one send unto his wife;
+And he whose wife is most obedient
+To come at first when he doth send for her,
+Shall win the wager which we will propose.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Content. What is the wager?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Twenty crowns.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Twenty crowns!
+I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound,
+But twenty times so much upon my wife.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+A hundred then.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Content.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+A match! 'tis done.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Who shall begin?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+That will I.
+Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.
+
+BIONDELLO:
+I go.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself.
+How now! what news?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+Sir, my mistress sends you word
+That she is busy and she cannot come.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+How! she is busy and she cannot come!
+Is that an answer?
+
+GREMIO:
+Ay, and a kind one too:
+Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I hope better.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife
+To come to me forthwith.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+O, ho! entreat her!
+Nay, then she must needs come.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+I am afraid, sir,
+Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.
+Now, where's my wife?
+
+BIONDELLO:
+She says you have some goodly jest in hand:
+She will not come: she bids you come to her.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile,
+Intolerable, not to be endured!
+Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress;
+Say, I command her to come to me.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+I know her answer.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+What?
+
+HORTENSIO:
+She will not.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina!
+
+KATHARINA:
+What is your will, sir, that you send for me?
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife?
+
+KATHARINA:
+They sit conferring by the parlor fire.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Go fetch them hither: if they deny to come.
+Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands:
+Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
+
+HORTENSIO:
+And so it is: I wonder what it bodes.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Marry, peace it bodes, and love and quiet life,
+And awful rule and right supremacy;
+And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy?
+
+BAPTISTA:
+Now, fair befal thee, good Petruchio!
+The wager thou hast won; and I will add
+Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns;
+Another dowry to another daughter,
+For she is changed, as she had never been.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Nay, I will win my wager better yet
+And show more sign of her obedience,
+Her new-built virtue and obedience.
+See where she comes and brings your froward wives
+As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.
+Katharina, that cap of yours becomes you not:
+Off with that bauble, throw it under-foot.
+
+Widow:
+Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
+Till I be brought to such a silly pass!
+
+BIANCA:
+Fie! what a foolish duty call you this?
+
+LUCENTIO:
+I would your duty were as foolish too:
+The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
+Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.
+
+BIANCA:
+The more fool you, for laying on my duty.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Katharina, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women
+What duty they do owe their lords and husbands.
+
+Widow:
+Come, come, you're mocking: we will have no telling.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Come on, I say; and first begin with her.
+
+Widow:
+She shall not.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+I say she shall: and first begin with her.
+
+KATHARINA:
+Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow,
+And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
+To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor:
+It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,
+Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,
+And in no sense is meet or amiable.
+A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
+Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
+And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
+Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
+Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
+Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
+And for thy maintenance commits his body
+To painful labour both by sea and land,
+To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
+Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
+And craves no other tribute at thy hands
+But love, fair looks and true obedience;
+Too little payment for so great a debt.
+Such duty as the subject owes the prince
+Even such a woman oweth to her husband;
+And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
+And not obedient to his honest will,
+What is she but a foul contending rebel
+And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
+I am ashamed that women are so simple
+To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
+Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway,
+When they are bound to serve, love and obey.
+Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,
+Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
+But that our soft conditions and our hearts
+Should well agree with our external parts?
+Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
+My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
+My heart as great, my reason haply more,
+To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
+But now I see our lances are but straws,
+Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
+That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
+Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
+And place your hands below your husband's foot:
+In token of which duty, if he please,
+My hand is ready; may it do him ease.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt ha't.
+
+VINCENTIO:
+'Tis a good hearing when children are toward.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+But a harsh hearing when women are froward.
+
+PETRUCHIO:
+Come, Kate, we'll to bed.
+We three are married, but you two are sped.
+'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white;
+And, being a winner, God give you good night!
+
+HORTENSIO:
+Now, go thy ways; thou hast tamed a curst shrew.
+
+LUCENTIO:
+'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so.
+
+Master:
+Boatswain!
+
+Boatswain:
+Here, master: what cheer?
+
+Master:
+Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely,
+or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.
+
+Boatswain:
+Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!
+yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the
+master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind,
+if room enough!
+
+ALONSO:
+Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?
+Play the men.
+
+Boatswain:
+I pray now, keep below.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Where is the master, boatswain?
+
+Boatswain:
+Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your
+cabins: you do assist the storm.
+
+GONZALO:
+Nay, good, be patient.
+
+Boatswain:
+When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers
+for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.
+
+GONZALO:
+Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.
+
+Boatswain:
+None that I more love than myself. You are a
+counsellor; if you can command these elements to
+silence, and work the peace of the present, we will
+not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you
+cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make
+yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of
+the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out
+of our way, I say.
+
+GONZALO:
+I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he
+hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is
+perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his
+hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable,
+for our own doth little advantage. If he be not
+born to be hanged, our case is miserable.
+
+Boatswain:
+Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring
+her to try with main-course.
+A plague upon this howling! they are louder than
+the weather or our office.
+Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er
+and drown? Have you a mind to sink?
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
+incharitable dog!
+
+Boatswain:
+Work you then.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!
+We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.
+
+GONZALO:
+I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were
+no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an
+unstanched wench.
+
+Boatswain:
+Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to
+sea again; lay her off.
+
+Mariners:
+All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!
+
+Boatswain:
+What, must our mouths be cold?
+
+GONZALO:
+The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them,
+For our case is as theirs.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+I'm out of patience.
+
+ANTONIO:
+We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
+This wide-chapp'd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning
+The washing of ten tides!
+
+GONZALO:
+He'll be hang'd yet,
+Though every drop of water swear against it
+And gape at widest to glut him.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Let's all sink with the king.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Let's take leave of him.
+
+GONZALO:
+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.
+
+MIRANDA:
+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, I have suffered
+With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,
+Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
+Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
+Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
+Had I been any god of power, I would
+Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
+It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
+The fraughting souls within her.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Be collected:
+No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
+There's no harm done.
+
+MIRANDA:
+O, woe the day!
+
+PROSPERO:
+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.
+
+MIRANDA:
+More to know
+Did never meddle with my thoughts.
+
+PROSPERO:
+'Tis time
+I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
+And pluck my magic garment from me. So:
+Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.
+The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
+The very virtue of compassion in thee,
+I have with such provision in mine art
+So safely ordered 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 farther.
+
+MIRANDA:
+You have often
+Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd
+And left me to a bootless inquisition,
+Concluding 'Stay: not yet.'
+
+PROSPERO:
+The hour's now come;
+The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
+Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember
+A time before we came unto this cell?
+I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
+Out three years old.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Certainly, sir, I can.
+
+PROSPERO:
+By what? by any other house or person?
+Of any thing the image tell me that
+Hath kept with thy remembrance.
+
+MIRANDA:
+'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?
+
+PROSPERO:
+Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it
+That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
+In the dark backward and abysm of time?
+If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here,
+How thou camest here thou mayst.
+
+MIRANDA:
+But that I do not.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
+Thy father was the Duke of Milan and
+A prince of power.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Sir, are not you my father?
+
+PROSPERO:
+Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
+She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
+Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir
+And princess no worse issued.
+
+MIRANDA:
+O the heavens!
+What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
+Or blessed was't we did?
+
+PROSPERO:
+Both, both, my girl:
+By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence,
+But blessedly holp hither.
+
+MIRANDA:
+O, my heart bleeds
+To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to,
+Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.
+
+PROSPERO:
+My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio--
+I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should
+Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself
+Of all the world I loved and to him put
+The manage of my state; as at that time
+Through all the signories it was the first
+And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
+In dignity, and for the liberal arts
+Without a parallel; those being all my study,
+The government I cast upon my brother
+And to my state grew stranger, being transported
+And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--
+Dost thou attend me?
+
+MIRANDA:
+Sir, most heedfully.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Being once perfected how to grant suits,
+How to deny them, who to advance and who
+To trash for over-topping, new created
+The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
+Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key
+Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state
+To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was
+The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
+And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.
+
+MIRANDA:
+O, good sir, I do.
+
+PROSPERO:
+I pray thee, mark me.
+I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
+To closeness and the bettering of my mind
+With that which, but by being so retired,
+O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
+Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,
+Like a good parent, did beget of him
+A falsehood in its contrary as great
+As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,
+A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
+Not only with what my revenue yielded,
+But what my power might else exact, like one
+Who having into truth, by telling of it,
+Made such a sinner of his memory,
+To credit his own lie, he did believe
+He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution
+And executing the outward face of royalty,
+With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing--
+Dost thou hear?
+
+MIRANDA:
+Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
+
+PROSPERO:
+To have no screen between this part he play'd
+And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
+Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library
+Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties
+He thinks me now incapable; confederates--
+So dry he was for sway--wi' the King of Naples
+To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
+Subject his coronet to his crown and bend
+The dukedom yet unbow'd--alas, poor Milan!--
+To most ignoble stooping.
+
+MIRANDA:
+O the heavens!
+
+PROSPERO:
+Mark his condition and the event; then tell me
+If this might be a brother.
+
+MIRANDA:
+I should sin
+To think but nobly of my grandmother:
+Good wombs have borne bad sons.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Now the condition.
+The King of Naples, being an enemy
+To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
+Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises
+Of homage and I know not how much tribute,
+Should presently extirpate me and mine
+Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan
+With all the honours on my brother: whereon,
+A treacherous army levied, one midnight
+Fated to the purpose did Antonio open
+The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness,
+The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
+Me and thy crying self.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Alack, for pity!
+I, not remembering how I cried out then,
+Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint
+That wrings mine eyes to't.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Hear a little further
+And then I'll bring thee to the present business
+Which now's upon's; without the which this story
+Were most impertinent.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Wherefore did they not
+That hour destroy us?
+
+PROSPERO:
+Well demanded, wench:
+My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
+So dear the love my people bore me, nor set
+A mark so bloody on the business, but
+With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
+In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
+Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared
+A rotten carcass of a 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.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Alack, what trouble
+Was I then to you!
+
+PROSPERO:
+O, a cherubim
+Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile.
+Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
+When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
+Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me
+An undergoing stomach, to bear up
+Against what should ensue.
+
+MIRANDA:
+How came we ashore?
+
+PROSPERO:
+By Providence divine.
+Some food we had and some fresh water that
+A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
+Out of his charity, being then appointed
+Master of this design, did give us, with
+Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,
+Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
+Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me
+From mine own library with volumes that
+I prize above my dukedom.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Would I might
+But ever see that man!
+
+PROSPERO:
+Now I arise:
+Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
+Here in this island we arrived; and here
+Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
+Than other princesses can that have more time
+For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.
+
+MIRANDA:
+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?
+
+PROSPERO:
+Know thus far forth.
+By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
+Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
+Brought to this shore; and by my prescience
+I find my zenith doth depend upon
+A most auspicious star, whose influence
+If now I court not but omit, my fortunes
+Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
+Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
+And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.
+Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
+Approach, my Ariel, come.
+
+ARIEL:
+All hail, great master! grave sir, 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.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Hast thou, spirit,
+Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?
+
+ARIEL:
+To every article.
+I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
+Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
+I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide,
+And burn in many places; on the topmast,
+The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
+Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors
+O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
+And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks
+Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
+Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
+Yea, his dread trident shake.
+
+PROSPERO:
+My brave spirit!
+Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
+Would not infect his reason?
+
+ARIEL:
+Not a soul
+But felt a fever of the mad and play'd
+Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
+Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
+Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
+With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,--
+Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty
+And all the devils are here.'
+
+PROSPERO:
+Why that's my spirit!
+But was not this nigh shore?
+
+ARIEL:
+Close by, my master.
+
+PROSPERO:
+But are they, Ariel, safe?
+
+ARIEL:
+Not a hair perish'd;
+On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
+But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
+In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.
+The king's son have I landed by himself;
+Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
+In an odd angle of the isle and sitting,
+His arms in this sad knot.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Of the king's ship
+The mariners say how thou hast disposed
+And all the rest o' the fleet.
+
+ARIEL:
+Safely in harbour
+Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
+Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
+From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
+The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
+Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
+I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet
+Which I dispersed, they all have met again
+And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
+Bound sadly home for Naples,
+Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd
+And his great person perish.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Ariel, thy charge
+Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work.
+What is the time o' the day?
+
+ARIEL:
+Past the mid season.
+
+PROSPERO:
+At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now
+Must by us both be spent most preciously.
+
+ARIEL:
+Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
+Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
+Which is not yet perform'd me.
+
+PROSPERO:
+How now? moody?
+What is't thou canst demand?
+
+ARIEL:
+My liberty.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Before the time be out? no more!
+
+ARIEL:
+I prithee,
+Remember I have done thee worthy service;
+Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served
+Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
+To bate me a full year.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Dost thou forget
+From what a torment I did free thee?
+
+ARIEL:
+No.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze
+Of the salt deep,
+To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
+To do me business in the veins o' the earth
+When it is baked with frost.
+
+ARIEL:
+I do not, sir.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
+The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
+Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?
+
+ARIEL:
+No, sir.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.
+
+ARIEL:
+Sir, in Argier.
+
+PROSPERO:
+O, was she so? I must
+Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
+Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
+For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
+To enter 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?
+
+ARIEL:
+Ay, sir.
+
+PROSPERO:
+This blue-eyed hag 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 hests, she did confine thee,
+By help of her more potent ministers
+And in her most unmitigable 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-born--not honour'd with
+A human shape.
+
+ARIEL:
+Yes, Caliban her son.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban
+Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
+What torment I did find thee in; thy groans
+Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts
+Of ever angry bears: it was a torment
+To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
+Could not again undo: it was mine art,
+When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
+The pine and let thee out.
+
+ARIEL:
+I thank thee, master.
+
+PROSPERO:
+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.
+
+ARIEL:
+Pardon, master;
+I will be correspondent to command
+And do my spiriting gently.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Do so, and after two days
+I will discharge thee.
+
+ARIEL:
+That's my noble master!
+What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?
+
+PROSPERO:
+Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject
+To no sight but thine and mine, invisible
+To every eyeball else. Go take this shape
+And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence!
+Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!
+
+MIRANDA:
+The strangeness of your story put
+Heaviness in me.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Shake it off. Come on;
+We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
+Yields us kind answer.
+
+MIRANDA:
+'Tis a villain, sir,
+I do not love to look on.
+
+PROSPERO:
+But, as 'tis,
+We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
+Fetch in our wood and serves in offices
+That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
+Thou earth, thou! speak.
+
+CALIBAN:
+
+PROSPERO:
+Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:
+Come, thou tortoise! when?
+Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
+Hark in thine ear.
+
+ARIEL:
+My lord it shall be done.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
+Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!
+
+CALIBAN:
+As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
+With raven's feather from unwholesome fen
+Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye
+And blister you all o'er!
+
+PROSPERO:
+For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
+Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
+Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
+All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
+As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
+Than bees that made 'em.
+
+CALIBAN:
+I must eat my dinner.
+This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
+Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,
+Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me
+Water with berries in't, and teach me how
+To name the bigger light, and how the less,
+That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee
+And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
+The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren 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 o' the island.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Thou most lying slave,
+Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,
+Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee
+In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
+The honour of my child.
+
+CALIBAN:
+O ho, O ho! would't had been done!
+Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
+This isle with Calibans.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Abhorred slave,
+Which any print of goodness wilt 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 wouldst 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
+Deservedly confined into this rock,
+Who hadst deserved more than a prison.
+
+CALIBAN:
+You taught me language; and my profit on't
+Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
+For learning me your language!
+
+PROSPERO:
+Hag-seed, hence!
+Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best,
+To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?
+If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly
+What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,
+Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar
+That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
+
+CALIBAN:
+No, pray thee.
+I must obey: his art is of such power,
+It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
+and make a vassal of him.
+
+PROSPERO:
+So, slave; hence!
+Come unto these yellow sands,
+And then take hands:
+Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
+The wild waves whist,
+Foot it featly here and there;
+And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
+Hark, hark!
+
+FERDINAND:
+Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth?
+It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon
+Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,
+Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
+This music crept by me upon the waters,
+Allaying both their fury and my passion
+With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
+Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
+No, it begins again.
+Full fathom five thy father lies;
+Of his bones are coral made;
+Those are pearls that were his eyes:
+Nothing of him that doth fade
+But doth suffer a sea-change
+Into something rich and strange.
+Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell
+Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.
+
+FERDINAND:
+The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
+This is no mortal business, nor no sound
+That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.
+
+PROSPERO:
+The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
+And say what thou seest yond.
+
+MIRANDA:
+What is't? a spirit?
+Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
+It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.
+
+PROSPERO:
+No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
+As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
+Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd
+With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him
+A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
+And strays about to find 'em.
+
+MIRANDA:
+I might call him
+A thing divine, for nothing natural
+I ever saw so noble.
+
+PROSPERO:
+
+FERDINAND:
+Most sure, the goddess
+On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
+May know if you remain upon this island;
+And that you will some good instruction give
+How I may bear me here: my prime request,
+Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
+If you be maid or no?
+
+MIRANDA:
+No wonder, sir;
+But certainly a maid.
+
+FERDINAND:
+My language! heavens!
+I am the best of them that speak this speech,
+Were I but where 'tis spoken.
+
+PROSPERO:
+How? the best?
+What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?
+
+FERDINAND:
+A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
+To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;
+And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,
+Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld
+The king my father wreck'd.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Alack, for mercy!
+
+FERDINAND:
+Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
+And his brave son being twain.
+
+PROSPERO:
+
+MIRANDA:
+Why speaks my father so ungently? This
+Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first
+That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
+To be inclined my way!
+
+FERDINAND:
+O, if a virgin,
+And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
+The queen of Naples.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Soft, sir! one word more.
+They are both in either's powers; but this swift business
+I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
+Make the prize light.
+One word more; I charge thee
+That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
+The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
+Upon this island as a spy, to win it
+From me, the lord on't.
+
+FERDINAND:
+No, as I am a man.
+
+MIRANDA:
+There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
+If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
+Good things will strive to dwell with't.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Follow me.
+Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;
+I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
+Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
+The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks
+Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
+
+FERDINAND:
+No;
+I will resist such entertainment till
+Mine enemy has more power.
+
+MIRANDA:
+O dear father,
+Make not too rash a trial of him, for
+He's gentle and not fearful.
+
+PROSPERO:
+What? I say,
+My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
+Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience
+Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
+For I can here disarm thee with this stick
+And make thy weapon drop.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Beseech you, father.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Hence! hang not on my garments.
+
+MIRANDA:
+Sir, have pity;
+I'll be his surety.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Silence! one word more
+Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
+An advocate for an imposter! hush!
+Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
+Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
+To the most of men this is a Caliban
+And they to him are angels.
+
+MIRANDA:
+My affections
+Are then most humble; I have no ambition
+To see a goodlier man.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Come on; obey:
+Thy nerves are in their infancy again
+And have no vigour in them.
+
+FERDINAND:
+So they are;
+My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
+My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
+The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
+To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
+Might I but through my prison once a day
+Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
+Let liberty make use of; space enough
+Have I in such a prison.
+
+PROSPERO:
+
+MIRANDA:
+Be of comfort;
+My father's of a better nature, sir,
+Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
+Which now came from him.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Thou shalt be free
+As mountain winds: but then exactly do
+All points of my command.
+
+ARIEL:
+To the syllable.
+
+PROSPERO:
+Come, follow. Speak not for him.
+
+GONZALO:
+Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,
+So have we all, of joy; for our escape
+Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
+Is common; every day some sailor's wife,
+The masters of some merchant and the merchant
+Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
+I mean our preservation, few in millions
+Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
+Our sorrow with our comfort.
+
+ALONSO:
+Prithee, peace.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+He receives comfort like cold porridge.
+
+ANTONIO:
+The visitor will not give him o'er so.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Look he's winding up the watch of his wit;
+by and by it will strike.
+
+GONZALO:
+Sir,--
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+One: tell.
+
+GONZALO:
+When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,
+Comes to the entertainer--
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+A dollar.
+
+GONZALO:
+Dolour comes to him, indeed: you
+have spoken truer than you purposed.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.
+
+GONZALO:
+Therefore, my lord,--
+
+ANTONIO:
+Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
+
+ALONSO:
+I prithee, spare.
+
+GONZALO:
+Well, I have done: but yet,--
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+He will be talking.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Which, of he or Adrian, for a good
+wager, first begins to crow?
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+The old cock.
+
+ANTONIO:
+The cockerel.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Done. The wager?
+
+ANTONIO:
+A laughter.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+A match!
+
+ADRIAN:
+Though this island seem to be desert,--
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid.
+
+ADRIAN:
+Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,--
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Yet,--
+
+ADRIAN:
+Yet,--
+
+ANTONIO:
+He could not miss't.
+
+ADRIAN:
+It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate
+temperance.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Temperance was a delicate wench.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.
+
+ADRIAN:
+The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+As if it had lungs and rotten ones.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
+
+GONZALO:
+Here is everything advantageous to life.
+
+ANTONIO:
+True; save means to live.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Of that there's none, or little.
+
+GONZALO:
+How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!
+
+ANTONIO:
+The ground indeed is tawny.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+With an eye of green in't.
+
+ANTONIO:
+He misses not much.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.
+
+GONZALO:
+But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost
+beyond credit,--
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+As many vouched rarities are.
+
+GONZALO:
+That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in
+the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and
+glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with
+salt water.
+
+ANTONIO:
+If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not
+say he lies?
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report
+
+GONZALO:
+Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we
+put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of
+the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.
+
+ADRIAN:
+Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to
+their queen.
+
+GONZALO:
+Not since widow Dido's time.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in?
+widow Dido!
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+What if he had said 'widower AEneas' too? Good Lord,
+how you take it!
+
+ADRIAN:
+'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that:
+she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
+
+GONZALO:
+This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
+
+ADRIAN:
+Carthage?
+
+GONZALO:
+I assure you, Carthage.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath
+raised the wall and houses too.
+
+ANTONIO:
+What impossible matter will he make easy next?
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+I think he will carry this island home in his pocket
+and give it his son for an apple.
+
+ANTONIO:
+And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
+forth more islands.
+
+GONZALO:
+Ay.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Why, in good time.
+
+GONZALO:
+Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now
+as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage
+of your daughter, who is now queen.
+
+ANTONIO:
+And the rarest that e'er came there.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
+
+ANTONIO:
+O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.
+
+GONZALO:
+Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I
+wore it? I mean, in a sort.
+
+ANTONIO:
+That sort was well fished for.
+
+GONZALO:
+When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
+
+ALONSO:
+You cram these words into mine ears against
+The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
+Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
+My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,
+Who is so far from Italy removed
+I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
+Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
+Hath made his meal on thee?
+
+FRANCISCO:
+Sir, he may live:
+I saw him beat the surges under him,
+And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
+Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
+The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
+'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
+Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
+To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
+As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
+He came alive to land.
+
+ALONSO:
+No, no, he's gone.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
+That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
+But rather lose her to an African;
+Where she at least is banish'd from your eye,
+Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
+
+ALONSO:
+Prithee, peace.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+You were kneel'd to and importuned otherwise
+By all of us, and the fair soul herself
+Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at
+Which end o' the beam should 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 fault's your own.
+
+ALONSO:
+So is the dear'st o' the loss.
+
+GONZALO:
+My lord Sebastian,
+The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
+And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
+When you should bring the plaster.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Very well.
+
+ANTONIO:
+And most chirurgeonly.
+
+GONZALO:
+It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
+When you are cloudy.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Foul weather?
+
+ANTONIO:
+Very foul.
+
+GONZALO:
+Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--
+
+ANTONIO:
+He'ld sow't with nettle-seed.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Or docks, or mallows.
+
+GONZALO:
+And were the king on't, what would I do?
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+'Scape being drunk for want of wine.
+
+GONZALO:
+I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
+Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
+Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
+Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
+And use of service, none; contract, succession,
+Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
+No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
+No occupation; all men idle, all;
+And women too, but innocent and pure;
+No sovereignty;--
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Yet he would be king on't.
+
+ANTONIO:
+The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the
+beginning.
+
+GONZALO:
+All things 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 foison, all abundance,
+To feed my innocent people.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+No marrying 'mong his subjects?
+
+ANTONIO:
+None, man; all idle: whores and knaves.
+
+GONZALO:
+I would with such perfection govern, sir,
+To excel the golden age.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+God save his majesty!
+
+ANTONIO:
+Long live Gonzalo!
+
+GONZALO:
+And,--do you mark me, sir?
+
+ALONSO:
+Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.
+
+GONZALO:
+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.
+
+ANTONIO:
+'Twas you we laughed at.
+
+GONZALO:
+Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing
+to you: so you may continue and laugh at
+nothing still.
+
+ANTONIO:
+What a blow was there given!
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+An it had not fallen flat-long.
+
+GONZALO:
+You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would lift
+the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue
+in it five weeks without changing.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
+
+GONZALO:
+No, I warrant you; I will not adventure
+my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh
+me asleep, for I am very heavy?
+
+ANTONIO:
+Go sleep, and hear us.
+
+ALONSO:
+What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
+Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
+They are inclined to do so.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Please you, sir,
+Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
+It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
+It is a comforter.
+
+ANTONIO:
+We two, my lord,
+Will guard your person while you take your rest,
+And watch your safety.
+
+ALONSO:
+Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
+
+ANTONIO:
+It is the quality o' the climate.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+Why
+Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
+Myself disposed to sleep.
+
+ANTONIO:
+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? O, what might?--No more:--
+And yet me thinks I see it in thy face,
+What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and
+My strong imagination sees a crown
+Dropping upon thy head.
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+What, art thou waking?
+
+ANTONIO:
+Do you not hear me speak?
+
+SEBASTIAN:
+I do; and surely
+It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st
+Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
+This is a strange repose, to be asleep
+With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
+And yet so fast asleep.
+
+ANTONIO:
+Noble Sebastian,
+Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st
+Whiles thou art waking.
diff --git "a/\350\213\261\346\226\207\350\257\215\351\242\221\347\273\237\350\256\241\347\250\213\345\272\217.c" "b/\350\213\261\346\226\207\350\257\215\351\242\221\347\273\237\350\256\241\347\250\213\345\272\217.c"
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..15a261b
--- /dev/null
+++ "b/\350\213\261\346\226\207\350\257\215\351\242\221\347\273\237\350\256\241\347\250\213\345\272\217.c"
@@ -0,0 +1,288 @@
+#include <stdio.h>
+#include <stdbool.h>
+#include <string.h>
+#include <ctype.h>
+#include <stdlib.h>
+
+FILE * fdest;
+
+typedef struct 
+{
+	char word[30];
+	int count;
+} Item;
+
+typedef struct node {
+	Item item;
+	struct node * left;
+	struct node * right;
+} Node;
+
+typedef Node * Tree;
+
+Tree * InitializeTree(Tree * ptree) {
+	*ptree = NULL;
+	return ptree;
+}
+
+bool TreeIsEmpty(const Tree * ptree) {
+	return (*ptree == NULL);
+}
+
+bool TreeIsFull(const Tree * ptree) {
+	Node * pnode = (Node *) malloc(sizeof(Node));
+	if (pnode == NULL) {
+		return true;
+	}
+	else {
+		free(pnode);
+		return false;
+	}
+}
+
+bool AddWord(const char * word, Tree * ptree) {
+	if (TreeIsFull(ptree)) {
+		return false;
+	}
+
+	int cmp;
+	while (*ptree != NULL) {
+		int cmp = strcmp(word, (*ptree)->item.word);
+		if (cmp == 0) {
+			(*ptree)->item.count++;
+			return true;
+		}
+		else if (cmp < 0) {
+			ptree = &((*ptree)->left);
+		}
+		else {
+			ptree = &((*ptree)->right);
+		}
+	}
+
+	Item item;
+	strncpy(item.word, word, 30);
+	item.count = 1;
+
+	Node * pnode = (Node *) malloc(sizeof(Node));
+	if (pnode == NULL) {
+		fprintf(stderr, "鍐呭瓨涓嶈冻锛乗n");
+		return false;
+	}
+
+	pnode->item = item;
+	pnode->left = NULL;
+	pnode->right = NULL;
+
+	*ptree = pnode;
+	return true;
+}
+
+bool DeleteWord(const char * word, Tree * ptree) {
+	while (*ptree != NULL) {
+		int cmp = strcmp(word, (*ptree)->item.word);
+		if (cmp == 0) {
+			Node * right = (*ptree)->right;
+			Node * tmp = (*ptree);
+			*ptree = (*ptree)->left;
+			while ((*ptree)->right != NULL) {
+				ptree = &((*ptree)->right);
+			}
+			(*ptree)->right = right;
+
+			free(tmp);
+			return true;
+		}
+		else if (cmp < 0) {
+			ptree = &((*ptree)->left);
+		}
+		else {
+			ptree = &((*ptree)->right);
+		}
+	}
+	return false;
+
+}
+
+bool InTree(const char * word, const Tree * ptree) {
+	Node * pnode = *ptree;
+	while (pnode != NULL) {
+		int cmp = strcmp(word, pnode->item.word);
+		if (cmp == 0) {
+			return true;
+		}
+		else if (cmp < 0) {
+			pnode = pnode->left;
+		}
+		else {
+			pnode = pnode->right;
+		}
+	}
+	return false;
+}
+
+void ApplyToNode(const char * word, const Tree * ptree, void (*fn)(Item)) {
+	Node * pnode = *ptree;
+	while (pnode != NULL) {
+		int cmp = strcmp(word, pnode->item.word);
+		if (cmp == 0) {
+			(*fn)(pnode->item);
+			return;
+		}
+		else if (cmp < 0) {
+			pnode = pnode->left;
+		}
+		else {
+			pnode = pnode->right;
+		}
+	}
+	return;
+}
+
+void ApplyToAll(const Tree * ptree, void (*fn)(Item)) {
+	Node * pnode = *ptree;
+	if (pnode == NULL) {
+		return;
+	}
+	ApplyToAll(&(pnode->left), fn);
+	(*fn)(pnode->item);
+	ApplyToAll(&(pnode->right), fn);
+}
+
+void DeleteAll(Tree * ptree) {
+	Node * pnode = *ptree;
+	DeleteAll(&(pnode->left));
+	DeleteAll(&(pnode->right));
+	free(pnode);
+}
+
+void printMenu(void) {
+	puts("/***************************/");
+	puts("           閫夐」:");
+	puts("---------------------------");
+	puts("a.鍒楀嚭鎵�鏈夌殑鍗曡瘝鍙婂嚭鐜扮殑娆℃暟");
+	puts("b.瀵绘壘涓�涓崟璇嶅湪鏂囦腑鍑虹幇鐨勬鏁�");
+	puts("q.閫�鍑�");
+	puts("---------------------------");
+	puts("/***************************/");
+	printf("璇烽�夋嫨: ");
+}
+
+int getOption(void) {
+	printMenu();
+	int opt;
+	while ((opt = getchar()) != 'a' && opt != 'b' && opt != 'q') {
+		printf("鏃犳晥閫夋嫨锛岃閲嶈瘯: ");
+		while (getchar() != '\n')
+			continue;
+	}
+	while (getchar() != '\n')
+		continue;
+	return opt;
+}
+
+void printWordCount(Item item) {
+	fprintf(fdest,"%s  鍑虹幇:%d娆n", item.word, item.count);
+}
+
+char * toLowercase(char * string) {
+	char * retval = string;
+	for (; *string != '\0'; string++) {
+		*string = tolower(*string);
+	}
+	return retval;
+}
+
+char * get(char * string, int n) {
+
+	char * retval = fgets(string, n, stdin);
+
+	for (; *string != '\0'; string++) {
+		if (*string == '\n') {
+			*string = '\0';
+			break;
+		}
+	}
+	return retval;
+}
+
+int main(int argc, char *argv[]) 
+{
+	
+	FILE * fp;
+	char source[128];
+	char dest[128];
+	char way[2];
+	puts("    鑻辨枃璇嶉缁熻绋嬪簭           ***Powered By Hollow Man***");
+	puts("**********************************************************");
+	printf("杈撳叆闇�瑕佺粺璁¤瘝棰戠殑鏂囦欢: ");
+	get(source, 128);
+	puts("");
+	printf("杈撳叆鍐欏叆缁熻鏁版嵁鏂囦欢: ");
+	get(dest, 128);
+	puts("");
+	printf("杈撳叆缁熻鏁版嵁鍐欏叆鏂瑰紡(a浠ｈ〃鏂囦欢鏈熬杩藉姞,w浠ｈ〃瑕嗙洊鍐欏叆):");
+	way[1]='\0';
+	while ((way[0]=getchar()) != 'a' && way[0] != 'w') {
+		puts("");
+		printf("%s",way);
+		printf("鏄棤鏁堥�夋嫨锛岃閲嶈瘯: ");
+		while (getchar() != '\n')
+			continue;
+	}
+	getchar();
+	if ((fp = fopen(source, "r")) == NULL)
+	{
+		puts("");
+		fprintf(stderr, "鏃犳硶鎵撳紑璇诲彇鐨勬枃浠� %s.\n", source);
+		exit(EXIT_FAILURE);
+	}
+	if ((fdest = fopen(dest, way)) == NULL)
+	{
+		puts("");
+		fprintf(stderr, "鏃犳硶鎵撳紑鍐欏叆鐨勬枃浠� %s.\n", dest);
+		exit(EXIT_FAILURE);
+	}
+
+	char tmp[30];
+	Tree words;
+	Tree * ptree = InitializeTree(&words);
+	while (fscanf(fp, "%s", tmp) == 1) {
+		toLowercase(tmp);
+		for(int i=0;i<30;i++)
+			if(tmp[i]>'z'||tmp[i]<'a')
+			{
+				tmp[i]='\0';
+				break;
+			}
+		if (!AddWord(tmp, ptree)) {
+			puts("");
+			fprintf(stderr, "鏈兘灏� %s 娣诲姞鍒版煡鎵捐寖鍥翠腑.\n",tmp);
+			exit(1);
+		}
+	}
+
+	int ch;
+	char word[30];
+	while ((ch = getOption()) != 'q') {
+		if (ch == 'a') {
+			puts("");
+			puts("姝ｅ湪澶勭悊涓紝璇风◢鍚�......");
+			ApplyToAll(ptree, printWordCount);
+			puts("");
+			puts("鎴愬姛鎵ц鎿嶄綔锛佽鍏抽棴绋嬪簭鍚庢煡鐪嬶紒");
+		} else if (ch == 'b') {
+			puts("");
+			printf("杈撳叆瑕佹悳绱㈢殑鍗曡瘝: ");
+			get(word, 30);
+			puts("");
+			puts("姝ｅ湪澶勭悊涓紝璇风◢鍚�......");
+			ApplyToNode(word, ptree, printWordCount);
+			puts("");
+			puts("鎴愬姛鎵ц鎿嶄綔锛佽鍏抽棴绋嬪簭鍚庢煡鐪嬶紒");
+		}
+		puts("");
+	}
+	fclose(fp);
+	fclose(fdest);
+}
\ No newline at end of file