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ROMEO AND JULIET


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


ESCALUS    prince of Verona. (PRINCE:)

PARIS    a young nobleman, kinsman to the prince.


MONTAGUE    |
    |  heads of two houses at variance with each other.
CAPULET    |


    An old man, cousin to Capulet. (Second Capulet:)

ROMEO    son to Montague.

MERCUTIO    kinsman to the prince, and friend to Romeo.

BENVOLIO    nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo.

TYBALT    nephew to Lady Capulet.


FRIAR LAURENCE    |
    |  Franciscans.
FRIAR JOHN    |


BALTHASAR    servant to Romeo.


SAMPSON    |
    |  servants to Capulet.
GREGORY    |


PETER    servant to Juliet's nurse.

ABRAHAM    servant to Montague.

    An Apothecary. (Apothecary:)

    Three Musicians.
    (First Musician:)
    (Second Musician:)
    (Third Musician:)

    Page to Paris; (PAGE:)  another Page; an officer.

LADY MONTAGUE    wife to Montague.

LADY CAPULET    wife to Capulet.

JULIET    daughter to Capulet.

    Nurse to Juliet. (Nurse:)

    Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women,
    relations to both houses; Maskers,
    Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants.
    (First Citizen:)
    (Servant:)
    (First Servant:)
    (Second Servant:)
    (First Watchman:)
    (Second Watchman:)
    (Third Watchman:)
    Chorus.


SCENE    Verona: Mantua.




    ROMEO AND JULIET

    PROLOGUE


    Two households, both alike in dignity,
    In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
    From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
    Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
    From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
    A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
    Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
    Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
    The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
    And the continuance of their parents' rage,
    Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
    Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
    The which if you with patient ears attend,
    What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE I    Verona. A public place.


    [Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet,
    armed with swords and bucklers]

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.

    [Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR]

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    [Aside to GREGORY]  Is the law of our side, if I say
    ay?

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.

    [They fight]

    [Enter BENVOLIO]

BENVOLIO    Part, fools!
    Put up your swords; you know not what you do.

    [Beats down their swords]

    [Enter TYBALT]

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!

    [They fight]

    [Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray;
    then enter Citizens, with clubs]

First Citizen    Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!
    Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues!

    [Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET]

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.

    [Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]

MONTAGUE    Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go.

LADY MONTAGUE    Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.

    [Enter PRINCE, with Attendants]

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.

    [Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO]

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.

    [Enter ROMEO]

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.

    [Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE II    A street.


    [Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant]

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.

    [To Servant, giving a paper]

    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.

    [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS]

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.

    [Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO]

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.

    [Reads]

    '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!

    [Exit]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE III    A room in Capulet's house.


    [Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

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!

    [Enter 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.

    [Enter a Servant]

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.

    [Exit Servant]

    Juliet, the county stays.

Nurse    Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE IV    A street.


    [Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six
    Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others]

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.

    [Exeunt]



    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT I



SCENE V    A hall in Capulet's house.


    [Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins]

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.

    [Enter CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his house,
    meeting the Guests and Maskers]

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.

    [Music plays, and they dance]

    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    [To a Servingman]  What lady is that, which doth
    enrich the hand
    Of yonder knight?

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.

    [Exit]

ROMEO    [To JULIET]  If I profane with my unworthiest hand
    This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
    My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
    To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

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.

    [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse]

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.

    [One calls within 'Juliet.']

Nurse    Anon, anon!
    Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II


    PROLOGUE


    [Enter Chorus]

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.

    [Exit]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE I    A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard.


    [Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO    Can I go forward when my heart is here?
    Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

    [He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it]

    [Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE II    Capulet's orchard.


    [Enter ROMEO]

ROMEO    He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

    [JULIET appears above at a window]

    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    [Aside]  Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

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.

    [Nurse calls within]

    I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!
    Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true.
    Stay but a little, I will come again.

    [Exit, above]

ROMEO    O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.
    Being in night, all this is but a dream,
    Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

    [Re-enter JULIET, above]

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    [Within]  Madam!

JULIET    I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well,
    I do beseech thee--

Nurse    [Within]  Madam!

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!

    [Exit, above]

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.

    [Retiring]

    [Re-enter JULIET, above]

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.

    [Exit above]

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.

    [Exit]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE III    Friar Laurence's cell.


    [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket]

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.

    [Enter ROMEO]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE IV    A street.


    [Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO]

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!

    [Enter ROMEO]

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!

    [Enter Nurse and PETER]

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.

    [Sings]

    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,

    [Singing]

    'lady, lady, lady.'

    [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO]

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.

    [Exit Romeo]
    Peter!

PETER    Anon!

Nurse    Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE V    Capulet's orchard.


    [Enter JULIET]

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!

    [Enter Nurse and PETER]

    O honey nurse, what news?
    Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

Nurse    Peter, stay at the gate.

    [Exit PETER]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT II



SCENE VI    Friar Laurence's cell.


    [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO]

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.

    [Enter JULIET]

    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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE I    A public place.


    [Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants]

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.

    [Enter TYBALT and others]

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.

    [Enter ROMEO]

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.

    [Draws]

    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.

    [Drawing]

ROMEO    Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up.

MERCUTIO    Come, sir, your passado.

    [They fight]

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!

    [TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies
    with his followers]

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.

    [Exit Page]

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!

    [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO]

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!

    [Re-enter BENVOLIO]

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!

    [Re-enter TYBALT]

    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.

    [They fight; TYBALT falls]

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?

    [Exit ROMEO]

    [Enter Citizens, &c]

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.

    [Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their
    Wives, and others]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE II    Capulet's orchard.


    [Enter JULIET]

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.

    [Enter Nurse, with cords]

    Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords
    That Romeo bid thee fetch?

Nurse    Ay, ay, the cords.

    [Throws them down]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE III    Friar Laurence's cell.


    [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]

FRIAR LAURENCE    Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:
    Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,
    And thou art wedded to calamity.

    [Enter ROMEO]

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.

    [Knocking within]

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.

    [Knocking]

FRIAR LAURENCE    Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise;
    Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up;

    [Knocking]

    Run to my study. By and by! God's will,
    What simpleness is this! I come, I come!

    [Knocking]

    Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?

Nurse    [Within]  Let me come in, and you shall know
    my errand;
    I come from Lady Juliet.

FRIAR LAURENCE    Welcome, then.

    [Enter Nurse]

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.

    [Drawing his sword]

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.

    [Exit]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE IV    A room in Capulet's house.


    [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT III



SCENE V    Capulet's orchard.


    [Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window]

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!

    [Enter Nurse, to the chamber]

Nurse    Madam!

JULIET    Nurse?

Nurse    Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:
    The day is broke; be wary, look about.

    [Exit]

JULIET    Then, window, let day in, and let life out.

ROMEO    Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

    [He goeth down]

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!

    [Exit]

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    [Within]         Ho, daughter! are you up?

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?

    [Enter LADY CAPULET]

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    [Aside]  Villain and he be many miles asunder.--
    God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart;
    And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.

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.

    [Enter CAPULET and Nurse]

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.

    [Exit]

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.

    [Exit]

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.

    [Exit]

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.

    [Exit]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE I    Friar Laurence's cell.


    [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS]

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    [Aside]  I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.
    Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

    [Enter JULIET]

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.

    [Exit]

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!

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE II    Hall in Capulet's house.


    [Enter CAPULET, LADY  CAPULET, Nurse, and two
    Servingmen]

CAPULET    So many guests invite as here are writ.

    [Exit First Servant]

    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.

    [Exit Second Servant]

    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.

    [Enter JULIET]

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.

    [Exeunt JULIET and Nurse]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE III    Juliet's chamber.


    [Enter JULIET and Nurse]

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.

    [Enter LADY CAPULET]

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.

    [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

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.

    [Laying down her dagger]

    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.

    [She falls upon her bed, within the curtains]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE IV    Hall in Capulet's house.


    [Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

LADY CAPULET    Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse.

Nurse    They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

    [Enter CAPULET]

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.

    [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse]

CAPULET    A jealous hood, a jealous hood!

    [Enter three or four Servingmen, with spits, logs,
    and baskets]

                  Now, fellow,
    What's there?

First Servant    Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.

CAPULET    Make haste, make haste.

    [Exit First Servant]

          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.

    [Exit]

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.

    [Music within]

    Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say!

    [Re-enter Nurse]

    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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT IV



SCENE V    Juliet's chamber.


    [Enter Nurse]

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?

    [Undraws the curtains]

    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!

    [Enter LADY CAPULET]

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.

    [Enter CAPULET]

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.

    [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians]

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.

    [Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and FRIAR LAURENCE]

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.

    [Exit]

First Musician    Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

    [Enter PETER]

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.'

    [Exit]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



SCENE I    Mantua. A street.


    [Enter ROMEO]

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!

    [Enter BALTHASAR, booted]

    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.

    [Exit BALTHASAR]

    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!

    [Enter 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.

    [Exeunt]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



SCENE II    Friar Laurence's cell.


    [Enter FRIAR JOHN]

FRIAR JOHN    Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

    [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE]

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.

    [Exit]

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!

    [Exit]




    ROMEO AND JULIET


ACT V



SCENE III    A churchyard; in it a tomb belonging to the Capulets.


    [Enter PARIS, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch]

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    [Aside]  I am almost afraid to stand alone
    Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

    [Retires]

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 Page whistles]

    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.

    [Retires]

    [Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch,
    mattock, &c]

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    [Aside]  For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout:
    His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

    [Retires]

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!

    [Opens the tomb]

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.

    [Comes forward]

    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!

    [They fight]

PAGE    O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.

    [Exit]

PARIS    O, I am slain!

    [Falls]

    If thou be merciful,
    Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet.

    [Dies]

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.

    [Laying PARIS in the tomb]

    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!

    [Drinks]

    O true apothecary!
    Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

    [Dies]

    [Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR
    LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade]

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!

    [Advances]

    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?

    [Enters the tomb]

    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 wakes]

JULIET    O comfortable friar! where is my lord?
    I do remember well where I should be,
    And there I am. Where is my Romeo?

    [Noise within]

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,

    [Noise again]

         I dare no longer stay.

JULIET    Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.

    [Exit FRIAR LAURENCE]

    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.

    [Kisses him]

    Thy lips are warm.

First Watchman    [Within]  Lead, boy: which way?

JULIET    Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!

    [Snatching ROMEO's dagger]

    This is thy sheath;

    [Stabs herself]

    there rust, and let me die.

    [Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies]

    [Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS]

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.

    [Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR]

Second Watchman    Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard.

First Watchman    Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.

    [Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR LAURENCE]

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.

    [Enter the PRINCE and Attendants]

PRINCE    What misadventure is so early up,
    That calls our person from our morning's rest?

    [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others]

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.

    [Enter MONTAGUE and others]

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.

    [Exeunt]











    JULIUS CAESAR


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


JULIUS CAESAR    (CAESAR:)


OCTAVIUS CAESAR    (OCTAVIUS:)    |
        |
MARCUS ANTONIUS    (ANTONY:)    |  triumvirs after death of Julius Caesar.
        |
M. AEMILIUS        |
LEPIDUS    (LEPIDUS:)    |


CICERO        |
        |
PUBLIUS        |  senators.
        |
POPILIUS LENA    (POPILIUS:)    |


MARCUS BRUTUS    (BRUTUS:)    |
        |
CASSIUS        |
        |
CASCA        |
        |
TREBONIUS        |
        |   conspirators against Julius Caesar.
LIGARIUS        |
        |
DECIUS BRUTUS        |
        |
METELLUS CIMBER        |
        |
CINNA        |


FLAVIUS    |
    |   tribunes.
MARULLUS    |


ARTEMIDORUS
Of Cnidos    a teacher of rhetoric. (ARTEMIDORUS:)

A Soothsayer    (Soothsayer:)

CINNA    a poet. (CINNA THE POET:)

Another Poet    (Poet:)


LUCILIUS        |
        |
TITINIUS        |
        |
MESSALA        |  friends to Brutus and Cassius.
        |
Young CATO    (CATO:)    |
        |
VOLUMNIUS        |


VARRO    |
    |
CLITUS    |
    |
CLAUDIUS    |
    |  servants to Brutus.
STRATO    |
    |
LUCIUS    |
    |
DARDANIUS    |


PINDARUS    servant to Cassius.

CALPURNIA    wife to Caesar.

PORTIA    wife to Brutus.

    Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c.
    (First Citizen:)
    (Second Citizen:)
    (Third Citizen:)
    (Fourth Citizen:)
    (First Commoner:)
    (Second Commoner:)
    (Servant:)
    (First Soldier:)
    (Second Soldier:)
    (Third Soldier:)
    (Messenger:)


SCENE    Rome: the neighbourhood of Sardis: the neighbourhood
    of Philippi.




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE I    Rome. A street.


    [Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners]

FLAVIUS    Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home:
    Is this a holiday? what! know you not,
    Being mechanical, you ought not walk
    Upon a labouring day without the sign
    Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?

First Commoner    Why, sir, a carpenter.

MARULLUS    Where is thy leather apron and thy rule?
    What dost thou with thy best apparel on?
    You, sir, what trade are you?

Second Commoner    Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but,
    as you would say, a cobbler.

MARULLUS    But what trade art thou? answer me directly.

Second Commoner    A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe
    conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

MARULLUS    What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade?

Second Commoner    Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet,
    if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

MARULLUS    What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow!

Second Commoner    Why, sir, cobble you.

FLAVIUS    Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

Second Commoner    Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I
    meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's
    matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon
    to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I
    recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon
    neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork.

FLAVIUS    But wherefore art not in thy shop today?
    Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

Second Commoner    Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself
    into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday,
    to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph.

MARULLUS    Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?
    What tributaries follow him to Rome,
    To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?
    You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
    O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
    Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
    Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements,
    To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
    Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
    The livelong day, with patient expectation,
    To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
    And when you saw his chariot but appear,
    Have you not made an universal shout,
    That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
    To hear the replication of your sounds
    Made in her concave shores?
    And do you now put on your best attire?
    And do you now cull out a holiday?
    And do you now strew flowers in his way
    That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone!
    Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
    Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
    That needs must light on this ingratitude.

FLAVIUS    Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault,
    Assemble all the poor men of your sort;
    Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears
    Into the channel, till the lowest stream
    Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.

    [Exeunt all the Commoners]

    See whether their basest metal be not moved;
    They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness.
    Go you down that way towards the Capitol;
    This way will I    disrobe the images,
    If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.

MARULLUS    May we do so?
    You know it is the feast of Lupercal.

FLAVIUS    It is no matter; let no images
    Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about,
    And drive away the vulgar from the streets:
    So do you too, where you perceive them thick.
    These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing
    Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,
    Who else would soar above the view of men
    And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE II    A public place.



    [Flourish. Enter CAESAR; ANTONY, for the course;
    CALPURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CICERO, BRUTUS,
    CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among
    them a Soothsayer]

CAESAR    Calpurnia!

CASCA             Peace, ho! Caesar speaks.

CAESAR    Calpurnia!

CALPURNIA    Here, my lord.

CAESAR    Stand you directly in Antonius' way,
    When he doth run his course. Antonius!

ANTONY    Caesar, my lord?

CAESAR    Forget not, in your speed, Antonius,
    To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say,
    The barren, touched in this holy chase,
    Shake off their sterile curse.

ANTONY    I shall remember:
    When Caesar says 'do this,' it is perform'd.

CAESAR    Set on; and leave no ceremony out.

    [Flourish]

Soothsayer    Caesar!

CAESAR    Ha! who calls?

CASCA    Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!

CAESAR    Who is it in the press that calls on me?
    I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
    Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.

Soothsayer    Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR    What man is that?

BRUTUS    A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.

CAESAR    Set him before me; let me see his face.

CASSIUS    Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

CAESAR    What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.

Soothsayer    Beware the ides of March.

CAESAR    He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.

    [Sennet. Exeunt all except BRUTUS and CASSIUS]

CASSIUS    Will you go see the order of the course?

BRUTUS    Not I.

CASSIUS    I pray you, do.

BRUTUS    I am not gamesome: I do lack some part
    Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
    Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;
    I'll leave you.

CASSIUS    Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
    I have not from your eyes that gentleness
    And show of love as I was wont to have:
    You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
    Over your friend that loves you.

BRUTUS    Cassius,
    Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look,
    I turn the trouble of my countenance
    Merely upon myself. Vexed I am
    Of late with passions of some difference,
    Conceptions only proper to myself,
    Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors;
    But let not therefore my good friends be grieved--
    Among which number, Cassius, be you one--
    Nor construe any further my neglect,
    Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
    Forgets the shows of love to other men.

CASSIUS    Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;
    By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
    Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
    Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?

BRUTUS    No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,
    But by reflection, by some other things.

CASSIUS    'Tis just:
    And it is very much lamented, Brutus,
    That you have no such mirrors as will turn
    Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
    That you might see your shadow. I have heard,
    Where many of the best respect in Rome,
    Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus
    And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
    Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes.

BRUTUS    Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius,
    That you would have me seek into myself
    For that which is not in me?

CASSIUS    Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear:
    And since you know you cannot see yourself
    So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
    Will modestly discover to yourself
    That of yourself which you yet know not of.
    And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus:
    Were I a common laugher, or did use
    To stale with ordinary oaths my love
    To every new protester; if you know
    That I do fawn on men and hug them hard
    And after scandal them, or if you know
    That I profess myself in banqueting
    To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

    [Flourish, and shout]

BRUTUS    What means this shouting? I do fear, the people
    Choose Caesar for their king.

CASSIUS    Ay, do you fear it?
    Then must I think you would not have it so.

BRUTUS    I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well.
    But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
    What is it that you would impart to me?
    If it be aught toward the general good,
    Set honour in one eye and death i' the other,
    And I will look on both indifferently,
    For let the gods so speed me as I love
    The name of honour more than I fear death.

CASSIUS    I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
    As well as I do know your outward favour.
    Well, honour is the subject of my story.
    I cannot tell what you and other men
    Think of this life; but, for my single self,
    I had as lief not be as live to be
    In awe of such a thing as I myself.
    I was born free as Caesar; so were you:
    We both have fed as well, and we can both
    Endure the winter's cold as well as he:
    For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
    The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
    Caesar said to me 'Darest thou, Cassius, now
    Leap in with me into this angry flood,
    And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word,
    Accoutred as I was, I plunged in
    And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
    The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
    With lusty sinews, throwing it aside
    And stemming it with hearts of controversy;
    But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
    Caesar cried 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!'
    I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,
    Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
    The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber
    Did I the tired Caesar. And this man
    Is now become a god, and Cassius is
    A wretched creature and must bend his body,
    If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.
    He had a fever when he was in Spain,
    And when the fit was on him, I did mark
    How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake;
    His coward lips did from their colour fly,
    And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world
    Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:
    Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans
    Mark him and write his speeches in their books,
    Alas, it cried 'Give me some drink, Titinius,'
    As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me
    A man of such a feeble temper should
    So get the start of the majestic world
    And bear the palm alone.

    [Shout. Flourish]

BRUTUS    Another general shout!
    I do believe that these applauses are
    For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar.

CASSIUS    Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
    Like a Colossus, and we petty men
    Walk under his huge legs and peep about
    To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
    Men at some time are masters of their fates:
    The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
    But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
    Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that 'Caesar'?
    Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
    Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
    Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
    Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
    Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.
    Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
    Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,
    That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
    Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
    When went there by an age, since the great flood,
    But it was famed with more than with one man?
    When could they say till now, that talk'd of Rome,
    That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?
    Now is it Rome indeed and room enough,
    When there is in it but one only man.
    O, you and I have heard our fathers say,
    There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
    The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
    As easily as a king.

BRUTUS    That you do love me, I am nothing jealous;
    What you would work me to, I have some aim:
    How I have thought of this and of these times,
    I shall recount hereafter; for this present,
    I would not, so with love I might entreat you,
    Be any further moved. What you have said
    I will consider; what you have to say
    I will with patience hear, and find a time
    Both meet to hear and answer such high things.
    Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this:
    Brutus had rather be a villager
    Than to repute himself a son of Rome
    Under these hard conditions as this time
    Is like to lay upon us.

CASSIUS    I am glad that my weak words
    Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus.

BRUTUS    The games are done and Caesar is returning.

CASSIUS    As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve;
    And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you
    What hath proceeded worthy note to-day.

    [Re-enter CAESAR and his Train]

BRUTUS    I will do so. But, look you, Cassius,
    The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow,
    And all the rest look like a chidden train:
    Calpurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero
    Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes
    As we have seen him in the Capitol,
    Being cross'd in conference by some senators.

CASSIUS    Casca will tell us what the matter is.

CAESAR    Antonius!

ANTONY    Caesar?

CAESAR    Let me have men about me that are fat;
    Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights:
    Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
    He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

ANTONY    Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous;
    He is a noble Roman and well given.

CAESAR    Would he were fatter! But I fear him not:
    Yet if my name were liable to fear,
    I do not know the man I should avoid
    So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much;
    He is a great observer and he looks
    Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,
    As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music;
    Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
    As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit
    That could be moved to smile at any thing.
    Such men as he be never at heart's ease
    Whiles they behold a greater than themselves,
    And therefore are they very dangerous.
    I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd
    Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.
    Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,
    And tell me truly what thou think'st of him.

    [Sennet. Exeunt CAESAR and all his Train, but CASCA]

CASCA    You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me?

BRUTUS    Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day,
    That Caesar looks so sad.

CASCA    Why, you were with him, were you not?

BRUTUS    I should not then ask Casca what had chanced.

CASCA    Why, there was a crown offered him: and being
    offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand,
    thus; and then the people fell a-shouting.

BRUTUS    What was the second noise for?

CASCA    Why, for that too.

CASSIUS    They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?

CASCA    Why, for that too.

BRUTUS    Was the crown offered him thrice?

CASCA    Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every
    time gentler than other, and at every putting-by
    mine honest neighbours shouted.

CASSIUS    Who offered him the crown?

CASCA    Why, Antony.

BRUTUS    Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.

CASCA    I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it:
    it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark
    Antony offer him a crown;--yet 'twas not a crown
    neither, 'twas one of these coronets;--and, as I told
    you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to my
    thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he
    offered it to him again; then he put it by again:
    but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his
    fingers off it. And then he offered it the third
    time; he put it the third time by: and still as he
    refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their
    chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps
    and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because
    Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked
    Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it: and
    for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of
    opening my lips and receiving the bad air.

CASSIUS    But, soft, I pray you: what, did Caesar swound?

CASCA    He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at
    mouth, and was speechless.

BRUTUS    'Tis very like: he hath the failing sickness.

CASSIUS    No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I,
    And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.

CASCA    I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure,
    Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not
    clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and
    displeased them, as they use to do the players in
    the theatre, I am no true man.

BRUTUS    What said he when he came unto himself?

CASCA    Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the
    common herd was glad he refused the crown, he
    plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his
    throat to cut. An I had been a man of any
    occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word,
    I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so
    he fell. When he came to himself again, he said,
    If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired
    their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three
    or four wenches, where I stood, cried 'Alas, good
    soul!' and forgave him with all their hearts: but
    there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had
    stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less.

BRUTUS    And after that, he came, thus sad, away?

CASCA    Ay.

CASSIUS    Did Cicero say any thing?

CASCA    Ay, he spoke Greek.

CASSIUS    To what effect?

CASCA    Nay, an I tell you that, Ill ne'er look you i' the
    face again: but those that understood him smiled at
    one another and shook their heads; but, for mine own
    part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more
    news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs
    off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you
    well. There was more foolery yet, if I could
    remember it.

CASSIUS    Will you sup with me to-night, Casca?

CASCA    No, I am promised forth.

CASSIUS    Will you dine with me to-morrow?

CASCA    Ay, if I be alive and your mind hold and your dinner
    worth the eating.

CASSIUS    Good: I will expect you.

CASCA    Do so. Farewell, both.

    [Exit]

BRUTUS    What a blunt fellow is this grown to be!
    He was quick mettle when he went to school.

CASSIUS    So is he now in execution
    Of any bold or noble enterprise,
    However he puts on this tardy form.
    This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,
    Which gives men stomach to digest his words
    With better appetite.

BRUTUS    And so it is. For this time I will leave you:
    To-morrow, if you please to speak with me,
    I will come home to you; or, if you will,
    Come home to me, and I will wait for you.

CASSIUS    I will do so: till then, think of the world.

    [Exit BRUTUS]

    Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see,
    Thy honourable metal may be wrought
    From that it is disposed: therefore it is meet
    That noble minds keep ever with their likes;
    For who so firm that cannot be seduced?
    Caesar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus:
    If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius,
    He should not humour me. I will this night,
    In several hands, in at his windows throw,
    As if they came from several citizens,
    Writings all tending to the great opinion
    That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely
    Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at:
    And after this let Caesar seat him sure;
    For we will shake him, or worse days endure.

    [Exit]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT I



SCENE III    The same. A street.




    [Thunder and lightning. Enter from opposite sides,
    CASCA, with his sword drawn, and CICERO]

CICERO    Good even, Casca: brought you Caesar home?
    Why are you breathless? and why stare you so?

CASCA    Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth
    Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero,
    I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds
    Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen
    The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam,
    To be exalted with the threatening clouds:
    But never till to-night, never till now,
    Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
    Either there is a civil strife in heaven,
    Or else the world, too saucy with the gods,
    Incenses them to send destruction.

CICERO    Why, saw you any thing more wonderful?

CASCA    A common slave--you know him well by sight--
    Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn
    Like twenty torches join'd, and yet his hand,
    Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd.
    Besides--I ha' not since put up my sword--
    Against the Capitol I met a lion,
    Who glared upon me, and went surly by,
    Without annoying me: and there were drawn
    Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women,
    Transformed with their fear; who swore they saw
    Men all in fire walk up and down the streets.
    And yesterday the bird of night did sit
    Even at noon-day upon the market-place,
    Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies
    Do so conjointly meet, let not men say
    'These are their reasons; they are natural;'
    For, I believe, they are portentous things
    Unto the climate that they point upon.

CICERO    Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time:
    But men may construe things after their fashion,
    Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
    Come Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow?

CASCA    He doth; for he did bid Antonius
    Send word to you he would be there to-morrow.

CICERO    Good night then, Casca: this disturbed sky
    Is not to walk in.

CASCA    Farewell, Cicero.

    [Exit CICERO]

    [Enter CASSIUS]

CASSIUS    Who's there?

CASCA                      A Roman.

CASSIUS    Casca, by your voice.

CASCA    Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this!

CASSIUS    A very pleasing night to honest men.

CASCA    Who ever knew the heavens menace so?

CASSIUS    Those that have known the earth so full of faults.
    For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,
    Submitting me unto the perilous night,
    And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,
    Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone;
    And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open
    The breast of heaven, I did present myself
    Even in the aim and very flash of it.

CASCA    But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens?
    It is the part of men to fear and tremble,
    When the most mighty gods by tokens send
    Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.

CASSIUS    You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life
    That should be in a Roman you do want,
    Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze
    And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder,
    To see the strange impatience of the heavens:
    But if you would consider the true cause
    Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
    Why birds and beasts from quality and kind,
    Why old men fool and children calculate,
    Why all these things change from their ordinance
    Their natures and preformed faculties
    To monstrous quality,--why, you shall find
    That heaven hath infused them with these spirits,
    To make them instruments of fear and warning
    Unto some monstrous state.
    Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man
    Most like this dreadful night,
    That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars
    As doth the lion in the Capitol,
    A man no mightier than thyself or me
    In personal action, yet prodigious grown
    And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.

CASCA    'Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not, Cassius?

CASSIUS    Let it be who it is: for Romans now
    Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors;
    But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead,
    And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits;
    Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.

CASCA    Indeed, they say the senators tomorrow
    Mean to establish Caesar as a king;
    And he shall wear his crown by sea and land,
    In every place, save here in Italy.

CASSIUS    I know where I will wear this dagger then;
    Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius:
    Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
    Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
    Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
    Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
    Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
    But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
    Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
    If I know this, know all the world besides,
    That part of tyranny that I do bear
    I can shake off at pleasure.

    [Thunder still]

CASCA    So can I:
    So every bondman in his own hand bears
    The power to cancel his captivity.

CASSIUS    And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?
    Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf,
    But that he sees the Romans are but sheep:
    He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
    Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
    Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome,
    What rubbish and what offal, when it serves
    For the base matter to illuminate
    So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief,
    Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this
    Before a willing bondman; then I know
    My answer must be made. But I am arm'd,
    And dangers are to me indifferent.

CASCA    You speak to Casca, and to such a man
    That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand:
    Be factious for redress of all these griefs,
    And I will set this foot of mine as far
    As who goes farthest.

CASSIUS    There's a bargain made.
    Now know you, Casca, I have moved already
    Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans
    To undergo with me an enterprise
    Of honourable-dangerous consequence;
    And I do know, by this, they stay for me
    In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night,
    There is no stir or walking in the streets;
    And the complexion of the element
    In favour's like the work we have in hand,
    Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible.

CASCA    Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste.

CASSIUS    'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait;
    He is a friend.

    [Enter CINNA]

    Cinna, where haste you so?

CINNA    To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber?

CASSIUS    No, it is Casca; one incorporate
    To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna?

CINNA    I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this!
    There's two or three of us have seen strange sights.

CASSIUS    Am I not stay'd for? tell me.

CINNA    Yes, you are.
    O Cassius, if you could
    But win the noble Brutus to our party--

CASSIUS    Be you content: good Cinna, take this paper,
    And look you lay it in the praetor's chair,
    Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this
    In at his window; set this up with wax
    Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done,
    Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us.
    Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there?

CINNA    All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone
    To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie,
    And so bestow these papers as you bade me.

CASSIUS    That done, repair to Pompey's theatre.

    [Exit CINNA]

    Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day
    See Brutus at his house: three parts of him
    Is ours already, and the man entire
    Upon the next encounter yields him ours.

CASCA    O, he sits high in all the people's hearts:
    And that which would appear offence in us,
    His countenance, like richest alchemy,
    Will change to virtue and to worthiness.

CASSIUS    Him and his worth and our great need of him
    You have right well conceited. Let us go,
    For it is after midnight; and ere day
    We will awake him and be sure of him.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE I    Rome. BRUTUS's orchard.


    [Enter BRUTUS]

BRUTUS    What, Lucius, ho!
    I cannot, by the progress of the stars,
    Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say!
    I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly.
    When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, Lucius!

    [Enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS    Call'd you, my lord?

BRUTUS    Get me a taper in my study, Lucius:
    When it is lighted, come and call me here.

LUCIUS    I will, my lord.

    [Exit]

BRUTUS    It must be by his death: and for my part,
    I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
    But for the general. He would be crown'd:
    How that might change his nature, there's the question.
    It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
    And that craves wary walking. Crown him?--that;--
    And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
    That at his will he may do danger with.
    The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
    Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar,
    I have not known when his affections sway'd
    More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,
    That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
    Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
    But when he once attains the upmost round.
    He then unto the ladder turns his back,
    Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
    By which he did ascend. So Caesar may.
    Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
    Will bear no colour for the thing he is,
    Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented,
    Would run to these and these extremities:
    And therefore think him as a serpent's egg
    Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,
    And kill him in the shell.

    [Re-enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS    The taper burneth in your closet, sir.
    Searching the window for a flint, I found
    This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure,
    It did not lie there when I went to bed.

    [Gives him the letter]

BRUTUS    Get you to bed again; it is not day.
    Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March?

LUCIUS    I know not, sir.

BRUTUS    Look in the calendar, and bring me word.

LUCIUS    I will, sir.

    [Exit]

BRUTUS    The exhalations whizzing in the air
    Give so much light that I may read by them.

    [Opens the letter and reads]

    'Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake, and see thyself.
    Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress!
    Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake!'
    Such instigations have been often dropp'd
    Where I have took them up.
    'Shall Rome, &c.' Thus must I piece it out:
    Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome?
    My ancestors did from the streets of Rome
    The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king.
    'Speak, strike, redress!' Am I entreated
    To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise:
    If the redress will follow, thou receivest
    Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus!

    [Re-enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS    Sir, March is wasted fourteen days.

    [Knocking within]

BRUTUS    'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks.

    [Exit LUCIUS]

    Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar,
    I have not slept.
    Between the acting of a dreadful thing
    And the first motion, all the interim is
    Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
    The Genius and the mortal instruments
    Are then in council; and the state of man,
    Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
    The nature of an insurrection.

    [Re-enter LUCIUS]

LUCIUS    Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door,
    Who doth desire to see you.

BRUTUS    Is he alone?

LUCIUS    No, sir, there are moe with him.

BRUTUS    Do you know them?

LUCIUS    No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their ears,
    And half their faces buried in their cloaks,
    That by no means I may discover them
    By any mark of favour.

BRUTUS    Let 'em enter.

    [Exit LUCIUS]

    They are the faction. O conspiracy,
    Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night,
    When evils are most free? O, then by day
    Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough
    To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy;
    Hide it in smiles and affability:
    For if thou path, thy native semblance on,
    Not Erebus itself were dim enough
    To hide thee from prevention.

    [Enter the conspirators, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS
    BRUTUS, CINNA, METELLUS CIMBER, and TREBONIUS]

CASSIUS    I think we are too bold upon your rest:
    Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you?

BRUTUS    I have been up this hour, awake all night.
    Know I these men that come along with you?

CASSIUS    Yes, every man of them, and no man here
    But honours you; and every one doth wish
    You had but that opinion of yourself
    Which every noble Roman bears of you.
    This is Trebonius.

BRUTUS                      He is welcome hither.

CASSIUS    This, Decius Brutus.

BRUTUS    He is welcome too.

CASSIUS    This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber.

BRUTUS    They are all welcome.
    What watchful cares do interpose themselves
    Betwixt your eyes and night?

CASSIUS    Shall I entreat a word?

    [BRUTUS and CASSIUS whisper]

DECIUS BRUTUS    Here lies the east: doth not the day break here?

CASCA    No.

CINNA    O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines
    That fret the clouds are messengers of day.

CASCA    You shall confess that you are both deceived.
    Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises,
    Which is a great way growing on the south,
    Weighing the youthful season of the year.
    Some two months hence up higher toward the north
    He first presents his fire; and the high east
    Stands, as the Capitol, directly here.

BRUTUS    Give me your hands all over, one by one.

CASSIUS    And let us swear our resolution.

BRUTUS    No, not an oath: if not the face of men,
    The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,--
    If these be motives weak, break off betimes,
    And every man hence to his idle bed;
    So let high-sighted tyranny range on,
    Till each man drop by lottery. But if these,
    As I am sure they do, bear fire enough
    To kindle cowards and to steel with valour
    The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen,
    What need we any spur but our own cause,
    To prick us to redress? what other bond
    Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word,
    And will not palter? and what other oath
    Than honesty to honesty engaged,
    That this shall be, or we will fall for it?
    Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous,
    Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls
    That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear
    Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain
    The even virtue of our enterprise,
    Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits,
    To think that or our cause or our performance
    Did need an oath; when every drop of blood
    That every Roman bears, and nobly bears,
    Is guilty of a several bastardy,
    If he do break the smallest particle
    Of any promise that hath pass'd from him.

CASSIUS    But what of Cicero? shall we sound him?
    I think he will stand very strong with us.

CASCA    Let us not leave him out.

CINNA    No, by no means.

METELLUS CIMBER    O, let us have him, for his silver hairs
    Will purchase us a good opinion
    And buy men's voices to commend our deeds:
    It shall be said, his judgment ruled our hands;
    Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,
    But all be buried in his gravity.

BRUTUS    O, name him not: let us not break with him;
    For he will never follow any thing
    That other men begin.

CASSIUS    Then leave him out.

CASCA    Indeed he is not fit.

DECIUS BRUTUS    Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar?

CASSIUS    Decius, well urged: I think it is not meet,
    Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar,
    Should outlive Caesar: we shall find of him
    A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means,
    If he improve them, may well stretch so far
    As to annoy us all: which to prevent,
    Let Antony and Caesar fall together.

BRUTUS    Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius,
    To cut the head off and then hack the limbs,
    Like wrath in death and envy afterwards;
    For Antony is but a limb of Caesar:
    Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius.
    We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar;
    And in the spirit of men there is no blood:
    O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit,
    And not dismember Caesar! But, alas,
    Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends,
    Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully;
    Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
    Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds:
    And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,
    Stir up their servants to an act of rage,
    And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make
    Our purpose necessary and not envious:
    Which so appearing to the common eyes,
    We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers.
    And for Mark Antony, think not of him;
    For he can do no more than Caesar's arm
    When Caesar's head is off.

CASSIUS    Yet I fear him;
    For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar--

BRUTUS    Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him:
    If he love Caesar, all that he can do
    Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar:
    And that were much he should; for he is given
    To sports, to wildness and much company.

TREBONIUS    There is no fear in him; let him not die;
    For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter.

    [Clock strikes]

BRUTUS    Peace! count the clock.

CASSIUS    The clock hath stricken three.

TREBONIUS    'Tis time to part.

CASSIUS                      But it is doubtful yet,
    Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no;
    For he is superstitious grown of late,
    Quite from the main opinion he held once
    Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies:
    It may be, these apparent prodigies,
    The unaccustom'd terror of this night,
    And the persuasion of his augurers,
    May hold him from the Capitol to-day.

DECIUS BRUTUS    Never fear that: if he be so resolved,
    I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear
    That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
    And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
    Lions with toils and men with flatterers;
    But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
    He says he does, being then most flattered.
    Let me work;
    For I can give his humour the true bent,
    And I will bring him to the Capitol.

CASSIUS    Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him.

BRUTUS    By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost?

CINNA    Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

METELLUS CIMBER    Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard,
    Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey:
    I wonder none of you have thought of him.

BRUTUS    Now, good Metellus, go along by him:
    He loves me well, and I have given him reasons;
    Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him.

CASSIUS    The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, Brutus.
    And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember
    What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.

BRUTUS    Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily;
    Let not our looks put on our purposes,
    But bear it as our Roman actors do,
    With untired spirits and formal constancy:
    And so good morrow to you every one.

    [Exeunt all but BRUTUS]

    Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter;
    Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:
    Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,
    Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
    Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

    [Enter PORTIA]

PORTIA    Brutus, my lord!

BRUTUS    Portia, what mean you? wherefore rise you now?
    It is not for your health thus to commit
    Your weak condition to the raw cold morning.

PORTIA    Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus,
    Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper,
    You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
    Musing and sighing, with your arms across,
    And when I ask'd you what the matter was,
    You stared upon me with ungentle looks;
    I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head,
    And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot;
    Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,
    But, with an angry wafture of your hand,
    Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did;
    Fearing to strengthen that impatience
    Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal
    Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
    Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
    It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,
    And could it work so much upon your shape
    As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
    I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
    Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.

BRUTUS    I am not well in health, and that is all.

PORTIA    Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health,
    He would embrace the means to come by it.

BRUTUS    Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed.

PORTIA    Is Brutus sick? and is it physical
    To walk unbraced and suck up the humours
    Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,
    And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
    To dare the vile contagion of the night
    And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air
    To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;
    You have some sick offence within your mind,
    Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
    I ought to know of: and, upon my knees,
    I charm you, by my once-commended beauty,
    By all your vows of love and that great vow
    Which did incorporate and make us one,
    That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,
    Why you are heavy, and what men to-night
    Have had to resort to you: for here have been
    Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
    Even from darkness.

BRUTUS    Kneel not, gentle Portia.

PORTIA    I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus.
    Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
    Is it excepted I should know no secrets
    That appertain to you? Am I yourself
    But, as it were, in sort or limitation,
    To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,
    And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs
    Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,
    Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife.

BRUTUS    You are my true and honourable wife,
    As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
    That visit my sad heart

PORTIA    If this were true, then should I know this secret.
    I grant I am a woman; but withal
    A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife:
    I grant I am a woman; but withal
    A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter.
    Think you I am no stronger than my sex,
    Being so father'd and so husbanded?
    Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em:
    I have made strong proof of my constancy,
    Giving myself a voluntary wound
    Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience.
    And not my husband's secrets?

BRUTUS    O ye gods,

    Render me worthy of this noble wife!

    [Knocking within]

    Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile;
    And by and by thy bosom shall partake
    The secrets of my heart.
    All my engagements I will construe to thee,
    All the charactery of my sad brows:
    Leave me with haste.

    [Exit PORTIA]

        Lucius, who's that knocks?

    [Re-enter LUCIUS with LIGARIUS]

LUCIUS    He is a sick man that would speak with you.

BRUTUS    Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of.
    Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how?

LIGARIUS    Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue.

BRUTUS    O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius,
    To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick!

LIGARIUS    I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand
    Any exploit worthy the name of honour.

BRUTUS    Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius,
    Had you a healthful ear to hear of it.

LIGARIUS    By all the gods that Romans bow before,
    I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome!
    Brave son, derived from honourable loins!
    Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up
    My mortified spirit. Now bid me run,
    And I will strive with things impossible;
    Yea, get the better of them. What's to do?

BRUTUS    A piece of work that will make sick men whole.

LIGARIUS    But are not some whole that we must make sick?

BRUTUS    That must we also. What it is, my Caius,
    I shall unfold to thee, as we are going
    To whom it must be done.

LIGARIUS    Set on your foot,
    And with a heart new-fired I follow you,
    To do I know not what: but it sufficeth
    That Brutus leads me on.

BRUTUS    Follow me, then.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE II    CAESAR's house.


    [Thunder and lightning. Enter CAESAR, in his
    night-gown]

CAESAR    Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night:
    Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out,
    'Help, ho! they murder Caesar!' Who's within?

    [Enter a Servant]

Servant    My lord?

CAESAR    Go bid the priests do present sacrifice
    And bring me their opinions of success.

Servant    I will, my lord.

    [Exit]

    [Enter CALPURNIA]

CALPURNIA    What mean you, Caesar? think you to walk forth?
    You shall not stir out of your house to-day.

CAESAR    Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten'd me
    Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see
    The face of Caesar, they are vanished.

CALPURNIA    Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies,
    Yet now they fright me. There is one within,
    Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
    Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.
    A lioness hath whelped in the streets;
    And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead;
    Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds,
    In ranks and squadrons and right form of war,
    Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol;
    The noise of battle hurtled in the air,
    Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan,
    And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.
    O Caesar! these things are beyond all use,
    And I do fear them.

CAESAR    What can be avoided
    Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?
    Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these predictions
    Are to the world in general as to Caesar.

CALPURNIA    When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
    The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

CAESAR    Cowards die many times before their deaths;
    The valiant never taste of death but once.
    Of all the wonders that I yet have heard.
    It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
    Seeing that death, a necessary end,
    Will come when it will come.

    [Re-enter Servant]

               What say the augurers?

Servant    They would not have you to stir forth to-day.
    Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,
    They could not find a heart within the beast.

CAESAR    The gods do this in shame of cowardice:
    Caesar should be a beast without a heart,
    If he should stay at home to-day for fear.
    No, Caesar shall not: danger knows full well
    That Caesar is more dangerous than he:
    We are two lions litter'd in one day,
    And I the elder and more terrible:
    And Caesar shall go forth.

CALPURNIA    Alas, my lord,
    Your wisdom is consumed in confidence.
    Do not go forth to-day: call it my fear
    That keeps you in the house, and not your own.
    We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house:
    And he shall say you are not well to-day:
    Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this.

CAESAR    Mark Antony shall say I am not well,
    And, for thy humour, I will stay at home.

    [Enter DECIUS BRUTUS]

    Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so.

DECIUS BRUTUS    Caesar, all hail! good morrow, worthy Caesar:
    I come to fetch you to the senate-house.

CAESAR    And you are come in very happy time,
    To bear my greeting to the senators
    And tell them that I will not come to-day:
    Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser:
    I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius.

CALPURNIA    Say he is sick.

CAESAR                      Shall Caesar send a lie?
    Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,
    To be afraid to tell graybeards the truth?
    Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come.

DECIUS BRUTUS    Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause,
    Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so.

CAESAR    The cause is in my will: I will not come;
    That is enough to satisfy the senate.
    But for your private satisfaction,
    Because I love you, I will let you know:
    Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home:
    She dreamt to-night she saw my statua,
    Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts,
    Did run pure blood: and many lusty Romans
    Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it:
    And these does she apply for warnings, and portents,
    And evils imminent; and on her knee
    Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to-day.

DECIUS BRUTUS    This dream is all amiss interpreted;
    It was a vision fair and fortunate:
    Your statue spouting blood in many pipes,
    In which so many smiling Romans bathed,
    Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck
    Reviving blood, and that great men shall press
    For tinctures, stains, relics and cognizance.
    This by Calpurnia's dream is signified.

CAESAR    And this way have you well expounded it.

DECIUS BRUTUS    I have, when you have heard what I can say:
    And know it now: the senate have concluded
    To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar.
    If you shall send them word you will not come,
    Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock
    Apt to be render'd, for some one to say
    'Break up the senate till another time,
    When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams.'
    If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper
    'Lo, Caesar is afraid'?
    Pardon me, Caesar; for my dear dear love
    To our proceeding bids me tell you this;
    And reason to my love is liable.

CAESAR    How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia!
    I am ashamed I did yield to them.
    Give me my robe, for I will go.

    [Enter PUBLIUS, BRUTUS, LIGARIUS, METELLUS, CASCA,
    TREBONIUS, and CINNA]

    And look where Publius is come to fetch me.

PUBLIUS    Good morrow, Caesar.

CAESAR    Welcome, Publius.
    What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too?
    Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius,
    Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy
    As that same ague which hath made you lean.
    What is 't o'clock?

BRUTUS    Caesar, 'tis strucken eight.

CAESAR    I thank you for your pains and courtesy.

    [Enter ANTONY]

    See! Antony, that revels long o' nights,
    Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony.

ANTONY    So to most noble Caesar.

CAESAR    Bid them prepare within:
    I am to blame to be thus waited for.
    Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Trebonius!
    I have an hour's talk in store for you;
    Remember that you call on me to-day:
    Be near me, that I may remember you.

TREBONIUS    Caesar, I will:

    [Aside]

    and so near will I be,
    That your best friends shall wish I had been further.

CAESAR    Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me;
    And we, like friends, will straightway go together.

BRUTUS    [Aside]  That every like is not the same, O Caesar,
    The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon!

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE III    A street near the Capitol.


    [Enter ARTEMIDORUS, reading a paper]

ARTEMIDORUS    'Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius;
    come not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna, trust not
    Trebonius: mark well Metellus Cimber: Decius Brutus
    loves thee not: thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius.
    There is but one mind in all these men, and it is
    bent against Caesar. If thou beest not immortal,
    look about you: security gives way to conspiracy.
    The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover,
        'ARTEMIDORUS.'
    Here will I stand till Caesar pass along,
    And as a suitor will I give him this.
    My heart laments that virtue cannot live
    Out of the teeth of emulation.
    If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst live;
    If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive.

    [Exit]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT II



SCENE IV    Another part of the same street, before the house of BRUTUS.


    [Enter PORTIA and LUCIUS]

PORTIA    I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house;
    Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone:
    Why dost thou stay?

LUCIUS    To know my errand, madam.

PORTIA    I would have had thee there, and here again,
    Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there.
    O constancy, be strong upon my side,
    Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue!
    I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.
    How hard it is for women to keep counsel!
    Art thou here yet?

LUCIUS                      Madam, what should I do?
    Run to the Capitol, and nothing else?
    And so return to you, and nothing else?

PORTIA    Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well,
    For he went sickly forth: and take good note
    What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him.
    Hark, boy! what noise is that?

LUCIUS    I hear none, madam.

PORTIA    Prithee, listen well;
    I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray,
    And the wind brings it from the Capitol.

LUCIUS    Sooth, madam, I hear nothing.

    [Enter the Soothsayer]

PORTIA    Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been?

Soothsayer    At mine own house, good lady.

PORTIA    What is't o'clock?

Soothsayer                      About the ninth hour, lady.

PORTIA    Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol?

Soothsayer    Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand,
    To see him pass on to the Capitol.

PORTIA    Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not?

Soothsayer    That I have, lady: if it will please Caesar
    To be so good to Caesar as to hear me,
    I shall beseech him to befriend himself.

PORTIA    Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him?

Soothsayer    None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance.
    Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow:
    The throng that follows Caesar at the heels,
    Of senators, of praetors, common suitors,
    Will crowd a feeble man almost to death:
    I'll get me to a place more void, and there
    Speak to great Caesar as he comes along.

    [Exit]

PORTIA    I must go in. Ay me, how weak a thing
    The heart of woman is! O Brutus,
    The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise!
    Sure, the boy heard me: Brutus hath a suit
    That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint.
    Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord;
    Say I am merry: come to me again,
    And bring me word what he doth say to thee.

    [Exeunt severally]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



SCENE I    Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above.


    [A crowd of people; among them ARTEMIDORUS and the
    Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter CAESAR, BRUTUS,
    CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS BRUTUS, METELLUS CIMBER,
    TREBONIUS, CINNA, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POPILIUS,
    PUBLIUS, and others]

CAESAR    [To the Soothsayer]  The ides of March are come.

Soothsayer    Ay, Caesar; but not gone.

ARTEMIDORUS    Hail, Caesar! read this schedule.

DECIUS BRUTUS    Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread,
    At your best leisure, this his humble suit.

ARTEMIDORUS    O Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit
    That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great Caesar.

CAESAR    What touches us ourself shall be last served.

ARTEMIDORUS    Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly.

CAESAR    What, is the fellow mad?

PUBLIUS    Sirrah, give place.

CASSIUS    What, urge you your petitions in the street?
    Come to the Capitol.

    [CAESAR goes up to the Senate-House, the rest
    following]

POPILIUS    I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive.

CASSIUS    What enterprise, Popilius?

POPILIUS    Fare you well.

    [Advances to CAESAR]

BRUTUS    What said Popilius Lena?

CASSIUS    He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive.
    I fear our purpose is discovered.

BRUTUS    Look, how he makes to Caesar; mark him.

CASSIUS    Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention.
    Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known,
    Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back,
    For I will slay myself.

BRUTUS    Cassius, be constant:
    Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes;
    For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change.

CASSIUS    Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus.
    He draws Mark Antony out of the way.

    [Exeunt ANTONY and TREBONIUS]

DECIUS BRUTUS    Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go,
    And presently prefer his suit to Caesar.

BRUTUS    He is address'd: press near and second him.

CINNA    Casca, you are the first that rears your hand.

CAESAR    Are we all ready? What is now amiss
    That Caesar and his senate must redress?

METELLUS CIMBER    Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar,
    Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat
    An humble heart,--

    [Kneeling]

CAESAR                      I must prevent thee, Cimber.
    These couchings and these lowly courtesies
    Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
    And turn pre-ordinance and first decree
    Into the law of children. Be not fond,
    To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood
    That will be thaw'd from the true quality
    With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words,
    Low-crooked court'sies and base spaniel-fawning.
    Thy brother by decree is banished:
    If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him,
    I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
    Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause
    Will he be satisfied.

METELLUS CIMBER    Is there no voice more worthy than my own
    To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear
    For the repealing of my banish'd brother?

BRUTUS    I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar;
    Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may
    Have an immediate freedom of repeal.

CAESAR    What, Brutus!

CASSIUS                      Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon:
    As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall,
    To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber.

CASSIUS    I could be well moved, if I were as you:
    If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
    But I am constant as the northern star,
    Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
    There is no fellow in the firmament.
    The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
    They are all fire and every one doth shine,
    But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
    So in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men,
    And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive;
    Yet in the number I do know but one
    That unassailable holds on his rank,
    Unshaked of motion: and that I am he,
    Let me a little show it, even in this;
    That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd,
    And constant do remain to keep him so.

CINNA    O Caesar,--

CAESAR              Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus?

DECIUS BRUTUS    Great Caesar,--

CAESAR                      Doth not Brutus bootless kneel?

CASCA    Speak, hands for me!

    [CASCA first, then the other Conspirators and
    BRUTUS stab CAESAR]

CAESAR    Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar.

    [Dies]

CINNA    Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
    Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

CASSIUS    Some to the common pulpits, and cry out
    'Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!'

BRUTUS    People and senators, be not affrighted;
    Fly not; stand stiff: ambition's debt is paid.

CASCA    Go to the pulpit, Brutus.

DECIUS BRUTUS    And Cassius too.

BRUTUS    Where's Publius?

CINNA    Here, quite confounded with this mutiny.

METELLUS CIMBER    Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's
    Should chance--

BRUTUS    Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer;
    There is no harm intended to your person,
    Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius.

CASSIUS    And leave us, Publius; lest that the people,
    Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief.

BRUTUS    Do so: and let no man abide this deed,
    But we the doers.

    [Re-enter TREBONIUS]

CASSIUS                      Where is Antony?

TREBONIUS    Fled to his house amazed:
    Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run
    As it were doomsday.

BRUTUS    Fates, we will know your pleasures:
    That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time
    And drawing days out, that men stand upon.

CASSIUS    Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
    Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

BRUTUS    Grant that, and then is death a benefit:
    So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged
    His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop,
    And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood
    Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords:
    Then walk we forth, even to the market-place,
    And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
    Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!'

CASSIUS    Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence
    Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
    In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

BRUTUS    How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport,
    That now on Pompey's basis lies along
    No worthier than the dust!

CASSIUS    So oft as that shall be,
    So often shall the knot of us be call'd
    The men that gave their country liberty.

DECIUS BRUTUS    What, shall we forth?

CASSIUS    Ay, every man away:
    Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels
    With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome.

    [Enter a Servant]

BRUTUS    Soft! who comes here? A friend of Antony's.

Servant    Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel:
    Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down;
    And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say:
    Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest;
    Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving:
    Say I love Brutus, and I honour him;
    Say I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him and loved him.
    If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony
    May safely come to him, and be resolved
    How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death,
    Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead
    So well as Brutus living; but will follow
    The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus
    Thorough the hazards of this untrod state
    With all true faith. So says my master Antony.

BRUTUS    Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman;
    I never thought him worse.
    Tell him, so please him come unto this place,
    He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour,
    Depart untouch'd.

Servant                      I'll fetch him presently.

    [Exit]

BRUTUS    I know that we shall have him well to friend.

CASSIUS    I wish we may: but yet have I a mind
    That fears him much; and my misgiving still
    Falls shrewdly to the purpose.

BRUTUS    But here comes Antony.

    [Re-enter ANTONY]

         Welcome, Mark Antony.

ANTONY    O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low?
    Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
    Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well.
    I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,
    Who else must be let blood, who else is rank:
    If I myself, there is no hour so fit
    As Caesar's death hour, nor no instrument
    Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich
    With the most noble blood of all this world.
    I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,
    Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke,
    Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years,
    I shall not find myself so apt to die:
    No place will please me so, no mean of death,
    As here by Caesar, and by you cut off,
    The choice and master spirits of this age.

BRUTUS    O Antony, beg not your death of us.
    Though now we must appear bloody and cruel,
    As, by our hands and this our present act,
    You see we do, yet see you but our hands
    And this the bleeding business they have done:
    Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful;
    And pity to the general wrong of Rome--
    As fire drives out fire, so pity pity--
    Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part,
    To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony:
    Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts
    Of brothers' temper, do receive you in
    With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence.

CASSIUS    Your voice shall be as strong as any man's
    In the disposing of new dignities.

BRUTUS    Only be patient till we have appeased
    The multitude, beside themselves with fear,
    And then we will deliver you the cause,
    Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him,
    Have thus proceeded.

ANTONY    I doubt not of your wisdom.
    Let each man render me his bloody hand:
    First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you;
    Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand;
    Now, Decius Brutus, yours: now yours, Metellus;
    Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours;
    Though last, not last in love, yours, good Trebonius.
    Gentlemen all,--alas, what shall I say?
    My credit now stands on such slippery ground,
    That one of two bad ways you must conceit me,
    Either a coward or a flatterer.
    That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true:
    If then thy spirit look upon us now,
    Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death,
    To see thy thy Anthony making his peace,
    Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes,
    Most noble! in the presence of thy corse?
    Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds,
    Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood,
    It would become me better than to close
    In terms of friendship with thine enemies.
    Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay'd, brave hart;
    Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand,
    Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe.
    O world, thou wast the forest to this hart;
    And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee.
    How like a deer, strucken by many princes,
    Dost thou here lie!

CASSIUS    Mark Antony,--

ANTONY                      Pardon me, Caius Cassius:
    The enemies of Caesar shall say this;
    Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty.

CASSIUS    I blame you not for praising Caesar so;
    But what compact mean you to have with us?
    Will you be prick'd in number of our friends;
    Or shall we on, and not depend on you?

ANTONY    Therefore I took your hands, but was, indeed,
    Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Caesar.
    Friends am I with you all and love you all,
    Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons
    Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous.

BRUTUS    Or else were this a savage spectacle:
    Our reasons are so full of good regard
    That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar,
    You should be satisfied.

ANTONY    That's all I seek:
    And am moreover suitor that I may
    Produce his body to the market-place;
    And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend,
    Speak in the order of his funeral.

BRUTUS    You shall, Mark Antony.

CASSIUS    Brutus, a word with you.

    [Aside to BRUTUS]

    You know not what you do: do not consent
    That Antony speak in his funeral:
    Know you how much the people may be moved
    By that which he will utter?

BRUTUS    By your pardon;
    I will myself into the pulpit first,
    And show the reason of our Caesar's death:
    What Antony shall speak, I will protest
    He speaks by leave and by permission,
    And that we are contented Caesar shall
    Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies.
    It shall advantage more than do us wrong.

CASSIUS    I know not what may fall; I like it not.

BRUTUS    Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body.
    You shall not in your funeral speech blame us,
    But speak all good you can devise of Caesar,
    And say you do't by our permission;
    Else shall you not have any hand at all
    About his funeral: and you shall speak
    In the same pulpit whereto I am going,
    After my speech is ended.

ANTONY    Be it so.
    I do desire no more.

BRUTUS    Prepare the body then, and follow us.

    [Exeunt all but ANTONY]

ANTONY    O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
    That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
    Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
    That ever lived in the tide of times.
    Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
    Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
    Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
    To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue--
    A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
    Domestic fury and fierce civil strife
    Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
    Blood and destruction shall be so in use
    And dreadful objects so familiar
    That mothers shall but smile when they behold
    Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
    All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:
    And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
    With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
    Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
    Cry  'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
    That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
    With carrion men, groaning for burial.

    [Enter a Servant]

    You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not?

Servant    I do, Mark Antony.

ANTONY    Caesar did write for him to come to Rome.

Servant    He did receive his letters, and is coming;
    And bid me say to you by word of mouth--
    O Caesar!--

    [Seeing the body]

ANTONY    Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep.
    Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes,
    Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine,
    Began to water. Is thy master coming?

Servant    He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome.

ANTONY    Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanced:
    Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome,
    No Rome of safety for Octavius yet;
    Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile;
    Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse
    Into the market-place: there shall I try
    In my oration, how the people take
    The cruel issue of these bloody men;
    According to the which, thou shalt discourse
    To young Octavius of the state of things.
    Lend me your hand.

    [Exeunt with CAESAR's body]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



SCENE II    The Forum.


    [Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS, and a throng of Citizens]

Citizens    We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.

BRUTUS    Then follow me, and give me audience, friends.
    Cassius, go you into the other street,
    And part the numbers.
    Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here;
    Those that will follow Cassius, go with him;
    And public reasons shall be rendered
    Of Caesar's death.

First Citizen                      I will hear Brutus speak.

Second Citizen    I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons,
    When severally we hear them rendered.

    [Exit CASSIUS, with some of the Citizens. BRUTUS
    goes into the pulpit]

Third Citizen    The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!

BRUTUS    Be patient till the last.

    Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my
    cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me
    for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that
    you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and
    awake your senses, that you may the better judge.
    If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of
    Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar
    was no less than his. If then that friend demand
    why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer:
    --Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved
    Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and
    die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live
    all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him;
    as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was
    valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I
    slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his
    fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his
    ambition. Who is here so base that would be a
    bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended.
    Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If
    any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so
    vile that will not love his country? If any, speak;
    for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

All    None, Brutus, none.

BRUTUS    Then none have I offended. I have done no more to
    Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of
    his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not
    extenuated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offences
    enforced, for which he suffered death.

    [Enter ANTONY and others, with CAESAR's body]

    Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who,
    though he had no hand in his death, shall receive
    the benefit of his dying, a place in the
    commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this
    I depart,--that, as I slew my best lover for the
    good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself,
    when it shall please my country to need my death.

All    Live, Brutus! live, live!

First Citizen    Bring him with triumph home unto his house.

Second Citizen    Give him a statue with his ancestors.

Third Citizen    Let him be Caesar.

Fourth Citizen                      Caesar's better parts
    Shall be crown'd in Brutus.

First Citizen    We'll bring him to his house
    With shouts and clamours.

BRUTUS    My countrymen,--

Second Citizen    Peace, silence! Brutus speaks.

First Citizen    Peace, ho!

BRUTUS    Good countrymen, let me depart alone,
    And, for my sake, stay here with Antony:
    Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech
    Tending to Caesar's glories; which Mark Antony,
    By our permission, is allow'd to make.
    I do entreat you, not a man depart,
    Save I alone, till Antony have spoke.

    [Exit]

First Citizen    Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony.

Third Citizen    Let him go up into the public chair;
    We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up.

ANTONY    For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you.

    [Goes into the pulpit]

Fourth Citizen    What does he say of Brutus?

Third Citizen    He says, for Brutus' sake,
    He finds himself beholding to us all.

Fourth Citizen    'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here.

First Citizen    This Caesar was a tyrant.

Third Citizen    Nay, that's certain:
    We are blest that Rome is rid of him.

Second Citizen    Peace! let us hear what Antony can say.

ANTONY    You gentle Romans,--

Citizens    Peace, ho! let us hear him.

ANTONY    Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
    I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
    The evil that men do lives after them;
    The good is oft interred with their bones;
    So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
    Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
    If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
    And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
    Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest--
    For Brutus is an honourable man;
    So are they all, all honourable men--
    Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
    He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
    But Brutus says he was ambitious;
    And Brutus is an honourable man.
    He hath brought many captives home to Rome
    Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
    Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
    When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
    Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
    Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
    And Brutus is an honourable man.
    You all did see that on the Lupercal
    I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
    Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
    Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
    And, sure, he is an honourable man.
    I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
    But here I am to speak what I do know.
    You all did love him once, not without cause:
    What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
    O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
    And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
    My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
    And I must pause till it come back to me.

First Citizen    Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

Second Citizen    If thou consider rightly of the matter,
    Caesar has had great wrong.

Third Citizen    Has he, masters?
    I fear there will a worse come in his place.

Fourth Citizen    Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown;
    Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious.

First Citizen    If it be found so, some will dear abide it.

Second Citizen    Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.

Third Citizen    There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.

Fourth Citizen    Now mark him, he begins again to speak.

ANTONY    But yesterday the word of Caesar might
    Have stood against the world; now lies he there.
    And none so poor to do him reverence.
    O masters, if I were disposed to stir
    Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
    I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,
    Who, you all know, are honourable men:
    I will not do them wrong; I rather choose
    To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
    Than I will wrong such honourable men.
    But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar;
    I found it in his closet, 'tis his will:
    Let but the commons hear this testament--
    Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read--
    And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds
    And dip their napkins in his sacred blood,
    Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
    And, dying, mention it within their wills,
    Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
    Unto their issue.

Fourth Citizen    We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony.

All    The will, the will! we will hear Caesar's will.

ANTONY    Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;
    It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you.
    You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
    And, being men, bearing the will of Caesar,
    It will inflame you, it will make you mad:
    'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;
    For, if you should, O, what would come of it!

Fourth Citizen    Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony;
    You shall read us the will, Caesar's will.

ANTONY    Will you be patient? will you stay awhile?
    I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it:
    I fear I wrong the honourable men
    Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it.

Fourth Citizen    They were traitors: honourable men!

All    The will! the testament!

Second Citizen    They were villains, murderers: the will! read the will.

ANTONY    You will compel me, then, to read the will?
    Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar,
    And let me show you him that made the will.
    Shall I descend? and will you give me leave?

Several Citizens    Come down.

Second Citizen    Descend.

Third Citizen    You shall have leave.

    [ANTONY comes down]

Fourth Citizen    A ring; stand round.

First Citizen    Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

Second Citizen    Room for Antony, most noble Antony.

ANTONY    Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.

Several Citizens    Stand back; room; bear back.

ANTONY    If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.
    You all do know this mantle: I remember
    The first time ever Caesar put it on;
    'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent,
    That day he overcame the Nervii:
    Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through:
    See what a rent the envious Casca made:
    Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
    And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away,
    Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it,
    As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
    If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no;
    For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel:
    Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!
    This was the most unkindest cut of all;
    For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,
    Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
    Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart;
    And, in his mantle muffling up his face,
    Even at the base of Pompey's statua,
    Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell.
    O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
    Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
    Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
    O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel
    The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.
    Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold
    Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here,
    Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

First Citizen    O piteous spectacle!

Second Citizen    O noble Caesar!

Third Citizen    O woful day!

Fourth Citizen    O traitors, villains!

First Citizen    O most bloody sight!

Second Citizen    We will be revenged.

All    Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay!
    Let not a traitor live!

ANTONY    Stay, countrymen.

First Citizen    Peace there! hear the noble Antony.

Second Citizen    We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him.

ANTONY    Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up
    To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
    They that have done this deed are honourable:
    What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
    That made them do it: they are wise and honourable,
    And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
    I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts:
    I am no orator, as Brutus is;
    But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,
    That love my friend; and that they know full well
    That gave me public leave to speak of him:
    For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,
    Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,
    To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;
    I tell you that which you yourselves do know;
    Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
    And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus,
    And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony
    Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue
    In every wound of Caesar that should move
    The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

All    We'll mutiny.

First Citizen    We'll burn the house of Brutus.

Third Citizen    Away, then! come, seek the conspirators.

ANTONY    Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.

All    Peace, ho! Hear Antony. Most noble Antony!

ANTONY    Why, friends, you go to do you know not what:
    Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves?
    Alas, you know not: I must tell you then:
    You have forgot the will I told you of.

All    Most true. The will! Let's stay and hear the will.

ANTONY    Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal.
    To every Roman citizen he gives,
    To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.

Second Citizen    Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death.

Third Citizen    O royal Caesar!

ANTONY    Hear me with patience.

All    Peace, ho!

ANTONY    Moreover, he hath left you all his walks,
    His private arbours and new-planted orchards,
    On this side Tiber; he hath left them you,
    And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures,
    To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves.
    Here was a Caesar! when comes such another?

First Citizen    Never, never. Come, away, away!
    We'll burn his body in the holy place,
    And with the brands fire the traitors' houses.
    Take up the body.

Second Citizen    Go fetch fire.

Third Citizen    Pluck down benches.

Fourth Citizen    Pluck down forms, windows, any thing.

    [Exeunt Citizens with the body]

ANTONY    Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot,
    Take thou what course thou wilt!

    [Enter a Servant]

                          How now, fellow!

Servant    Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome.

ANTONY    Where is he?

Servant    He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house.

ANTONY    And thither will I straight to visit him:
    He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry,
    And in this mood will give us any thing.

Servant    I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius
    Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome.

ANTONY    Belike they had some notice of the people,
    How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT III



SCENE III    A street.


    [Enter CINNA the poet]

CINNA THE POET    I dreamt to-night that I did feast with Caesar,
    And things unlucky charge my fantasy:
    I have no will to wander forth of doors,
    Yet something leads me forth.

    [Enter Citizens]

First Citizen    What is your name?

Second Citizen    Whither are you going?

Third Citizen    Where do you dwell?

Fourth Citizen    Are you a married man or a bachelor?

Second Citizen    Answer every man directly.

First Citizen    Ay, and briefly.

Fourth Citizen    Ay, and wisely.

Third Citizen    Ay, and truly, you were best.

CINNA THE POET    What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I
    dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to
    answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and
    truly: wisely I say, I am a bachelor.

Second Citizen    That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry:
    you'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed; directly.

CINNA THE POET    Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral.

First Citizen    As a friend or an enemy?

CINNA THE POET    As a friend.

Second Citizen    That matter is answered directly.

Fourth Citizen    For your dwelling,--briefly.

CINNA THE POET    Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol.

Third Citizen    Your name, sir, truly.

CINNA THE POET    Truly, my name is Cinna.

First Citizen    Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator.

CINNA THE POET    I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet.

Fourth Citizen    Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses.

CINNA THE POET    I am not Cinna the conspirator.

Fourth Citizen    It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his
    name out of his heart, and turn him going.

Third Citizen    Tear him, tear him! Come, brands ho! fire-brands:
    to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all: some to Decius'
    house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away, go!

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



SCENE I    A house in Rome.


    [ANTONY, OCTAVIUS, and LEPIDUS, seated at a table]

ANTONY    These many, then, shall die; their names are prick'd.

OCTAVIUS    Your brother too must die; consent you, Lepidus?

LEPIDUS    I do consent--

OCTAVIUS                      Prick him down, Antony.

LEPIDUS    Upon condition Publius shall not live,
    Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony.

ANTONY    He shall not live; look, with a spot I damn him.
    But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house;
    Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine
    How to cut off some charge in legacies.

LEPIDUS    What, shall I find you here?

OCTAVIUS    Or here, or at the Capitol.

    [Exit LEPIDUS]

ANTONY    This is a slight unmeritable man,
    Meet to be sent on errands: is it fit,
    The three-fold world divided, he should stand
    One of the three to share it?

OCTAVIUS    So you thought him;
    And took his voice who should be prick'd to die,
    In our black sentence and proscription.

ANTONY    Octavius, I have seen more days than you:
    And though we lay these honours on this man,
    To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads,
    He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold,
    To groan and sweat under the business,
    Either led or driven, as we point the way;
    And having brought our treasure where we will,
    Then take we down his load, and turn him off,
    Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears,
    And graze in commons.

OCTAVIUS    You may do your will;
    But he's a tried and valiant soldier.

ANTONY    So is my horse, Octavius; and for that
    I do appoint him store of provender:
    It is a creature that I teach to fight,
    To wind, to stop, to run directly on,
    His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit.
    And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so;
    He must be taught and train'd and bid go forth;
    A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds
    On abjects, orts and imitations,
    Which, out of use and staled by other men,
    Begin his fashion: do not talk of him,
    But as a property. And now, Octavius,
    Listen great things:--Brutus and Cassius
    Are levying powers: we must straight make head:
    Therefore let our alliance be combined,
    Our best friends made, our means stretch'd
    And let us presently go sit in council,
    How covert matters may be best disclosed,
    And open perils surest answered.

OCTAVIUS    Let us do so: for we are at the stake,
    And bay'd about with many enemies;
    And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear,
    Millions of mischiefs.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



SCENE II    Camp near Sardis. Before BRUTUS's tent.


    [Drum. Enter BRUTUS, LUCILIUS, LUCIUS, and
    Soldiers; TITINIUS and PINDARUS meeting them]

BRUTUS    Stand, ho!

LUCILIUS    Give the word, ho! and stand.

BRUTUS    What now, Lucilius! is Cassius near?

LUCILIUS    He is at hand; and Pindarus is come
    To do you salutation from his master.

BRUTUS    He greets me well. Your master, Pindarus,
    In his own change, or by ill officers,
    Hath given me some worthy cause to wish
    Things done, undone: but, if he be at hand,
    I shall be satisfied.

PINDARUS    I do not doubt
    But that my noble master will appear
    Such as he is, full of regard and honour.

BRUTUS    He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius;
    How he received you, let me be resolved.

LUCILIUS    With courtesy and with respect enough;
    But not with such familiar instances,
    Nor with such free and friendly conference,
    As he hath used of old.

BRUTUS    Thou hast described
    A hot friend cooling: ever note, Lucilius,
    When love begins to sicken and decay,
    It useth an enforced ceremony.
    There are no tricks in plain and simple faith;
    But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,
    Make gallant show and promise of their mettle;
    But when they should endure the bloody spur,
    They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,
    Sink in the trial. Comes his army on?

LUCILIUS    They mean this night in Sardis to be quarter'd;
    The greater part, the horse in general,
    Are come with Cassius.

BRUTUS    Hark! he is arrived.

    [Low march within]

    March gently on to meet him.

    [Enter CASSIUS and his powers]

CASSIUS    Stand, ho!

BRUTUS    Stand, ho! Speak the word along.

First Soldier    Stand!

Second Soldier    Stand!

Third Soldier    Stand!

CASSIUS    Most noble brother, you have done me wrong.

BRUTUS    Judge me, you gods! wrong I mine enemies?
    And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother?

CASSIUS    Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs;
    And when you do them--

BRUTUS    Cassius, be content.
    Speak your griefs softly: I do know you well.
    Before the eyes of both our armies here,
    Which should perceive nothing but love from us,
    Let us not wrangle: bid them move away;
    Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs,
    And I will give you audience.

CASSIUS    Pindarus,
    Bid our commanders lead their charges off
    A little from this ground.

BRUTUS    Lucilius, do you the like; and let no man
    Come to our tent till we have done our conference.
    Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT IV



SCENE III    Brutus's tent.


    [Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS]

CASSIUS    That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this:
    You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella
    For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
    Wherein my letters, praying on his side,
    Because I knew the man, were slighted off.

BRUTUS    You wronged yourself to write in such a case.

CASSIUS    In such a time as this it is not meet
    That every nice offence should bear his comment.

BRUTUS    Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
    Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
    To sell and mart your offices for gold
    To undeservers.

CASSIUS                      I an itching palm!
    You know that you are Brutus that speak this,
    Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.

BRUTUS    The name of Cassius honours this corruption,
    And chastisement doth therefore hide his head.

CASSIUS    Chastisement!

BRUTUS    Remember March, the ides of March remember:
    Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake?
    What villain touch'd his body, that did stab,
    And not for justice? What, shall one of us
    That struck the foremost man of all this world
    But for supporting robbers, shall we now
    Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
    And sell the mighty space of our large honours
    For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
    I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
    Than such a Roman.

CASSIUS                      Brutus, bay not me;
    I'll not endure it: you forget yourself,
    To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I,
    Older in practise, abler than yourself
    To make conditions.

BRUTUS    Go to; you are not, Cassius.

CASSIUS    I am.

BRUTUS    I say you are not.

CASSIUS    Urge me no more, I shall forget myself;
    Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further.

BRUTUS    Away, slight man!

CASSIUS    Is't possible?

BRUTUS                      Hear me, for I will speak.
    Must I give way and room to your rash choler?
    Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?

CASSIUS    O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this?

BRUTUS    All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break;
    Go show your slaves how choleric you are,
    And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
    Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch
    Under your testy humour? By the gods
    You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
    Though it do split you; for, from this day forth,
    I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
    When you are waspish.

CASSIUS    Is it come to this?

BRUTUS    You say you are a better soldier:
    Let it appear so; make your vaunting true,
    And it shall please me well: for mine own part,
    I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

CASSIUS    You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus;
    I said, an elder soldier, not a better:
    Did I say 'better'?

BRUTUS    If you did, I care not.

CASSIUS    When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me.

BRUTUS    Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him.

CASSIUS    I durst not!

BRUTUS    No.

CASSIUS    What, durst not tempt him!

BRUTUS    For your life you durst not!

CASSIUS    Do not presume too much upon my love;
    I may do that I shall be sorry for.

BRUTUS    You have done that you should be sorry for.
    There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats,
    For I am arm'd so strong in honesty
    That they pass by me as the idle wind,
    Which I respect not. I did send to you
    For certain sums of gold, which you denied me:
    For I can raise no money by vile means:
    By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
    And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
    From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
    By any indirection: I did send
    To you for gold to pay my legions,
    Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius?
    Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
    When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
    To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
    Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts;
    Dash him to pieces!

CASSIUS    I denied you not.

BRUTUS    You did.

CASSIUS    I did not: he was but a fool that brought
    My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart:
    A friend should bear his friend's infirmities,
    But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

BRUTUS    I do not, till you practise them on me.

CASSIUS    You love me not.

BRUTUS                      I do not like your faults.

CASSIUS    A friendly eye could never see such faults.

BRUTUS    A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
    As huge as high Olympus.

CASSIUS    Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come,
    Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius,
    For Cassius is aweary of the world;
    Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother;
    Cheque'd like a bondman; all his faults observed,
    Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,
    To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep
    My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,
    And here my naked breast; within, a heart
    Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold:
    If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth;
    I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart:
    Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know,
    When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better
    Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.

BRUTUS    Sheathe your dagger:
    Be angry when you will, it shall have scope;
    Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour.
    O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb
    That carries anger as the flint bears fire;
    Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark,
    And straight is cold again.

CASSIUS    Hath Cassius lived
    To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus,
    When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him?

BRUTUS    When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too.

CASSIUS    Do you confess so much? Give me your hand.

BRUTUS    And my heart too.

CASSIUS                      O Brutus!

BRUTUS    What's the matter?

CASSIUS    Have not you love enough to bear with me,
    When that rash humour which my mother gave me
    Makes me forgetful?

BRUTUS    Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth,
    When you are over-earnest with your Brutus,
    He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so.

Poet    [Within]  Let me go in to see the generals;
    There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet
    They be alone.

LUCILIUS    [Within]  You shall not come to them.

Poet    [Within]  Nothing but death shall stay me.

    [Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, and LUCIUS]

CASSIUS    How now! what's the matter?

Poet    For shame, you generals! what do you mean?
    Love, and be friends, as two such men should be;
    For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye.

CASSIUS    Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme!

BRUTUS    Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence!

CASSIUS    Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion.

BRUTUS    I'll know his humour, when he knows his time:
    What should the wars do with these jigging fools?
    Companion, hence!

CASSIUS                      Away, away, be gone.

    [Exit Poet]

BRUTUS    Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders
    Prepare to lodge their companies to-night.

CASSIUS    And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you
    Immediately to us.

    [Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS]

BRUTUS    Lucius, a bowl of wine!

    [Exit LUCIUS]

CASSIUS    I did not think you could have been so angry.

BRUTUS    O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs.

CASSIUS    Of your philosophy you make no use,
    If you give place to accidental evils.

BRUTUS    No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead.

CASSIUS    Ha! Portia!

BRUTUS    She is dead.

CASSIUS    How 'scaped I killing when I cross'd you so?
    O insupportable and touching loss!
    Upon what sickness?

BRUTUS    Impatient of my absence,
    And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony
    Have made themselves so strong:--for with her death
    That tidings came;--with this she fell distract,
    And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire.

CASSIUS    And died so?

BRUTUS                      Even so.

CASSIUS    O ye immortal gods!

    [Re-enter LUCIUS, with wine and taper]

BRUTUS    Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine.
    In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius.

CASSIUS    My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge.
    Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup;
    I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love.

BRUTUS    Come in, Titinius!

    [Exit LUCIUS]

    [Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA]

    Welcome, good Messala.
    Now sit we close about this taper here,
    And call in question our necessities.

CASSIUS    Portia, art thou gone?

BRUTUS    No more, I pray you.
    Messala, I have here received letters,
    That young Octavius and Mark Antony
    Come down upon us with a mighty power,
    Bending their expedition toward Philippi.

MESSALA    Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor.

BRUTUS    With what addition?

MESSALA    That by proscription and bills of outlawry,
    Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus,
    Have put to death an hundred senators.

BRUTUS    Therein our letters do not well agree;
    Mine speak of seventy senators that died
    By their proscriptions, Cicero being one.

CASSIUS    Cicero one!

MESSALA              Cicero is dead,
    And by that order of proscription.
    Had you your letters from your wife, my lord?

BRUTUS    No, Messala.

MESSALA    Nor nothing in your letters writ of her?

BRUTUS    Nothing, Messala.

MESSALA                      That, methinks, is strange.

BRUTUS    Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours?

MESSALA    No, my lord.

BRUTUS    Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true.

MESSALA    Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell:
    For certain she is dead, and by strange manner.

BRUTUS    Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala:
    With meditating that she must die once,
    I have the patience to endure it now.

MESSALA    Even so great men great losses should endure.

CASSIUS    I have as much of this in art as you,
    But yet my nature could not bear it so.

BRUTUS    Well, to our work alive. What do you think
    Of marching to Philippi presently?

CASSIUS    I do not think it good.

BRUTUS    Your reason?

CASSIUS    This it is:
    'Tis better that the enemy seek us:
    So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers,
    Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still,
    Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness.

BRUTUS    Good reasons must, of force, give place to better.
    The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground
    Do stand but in a forced affection;
    For they have grudged us contribution:
    The enemy, marching along by them,
    By them shall make a fuller number up,
    Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged;
    From which advantage shall we cut him off,
    If at Philippi we do face him there,
    These people at our back.

CASSIUS    Hear me, good brother.

BRUTUS    Under your pardon. You must note beside,
    That we have tried the utmost of our friends,
    Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe:
    The enemy increaseth every day;
    We, at the height, are ready to decline.
    There is a tide in the affairs of men,
    Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
    Omitted, all the voyage of their life
    Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
    On such a full sea are we now afloat;
    And we must take the current when it serves,
    Or lose our ventures.

CASSIUS    Then, with your will, go on;
    We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi.

BRUTUS    The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
    And nature must obey necessity;
    Which we will niggard with a little rest.
    There is no more to say?

CASSIUS    No more. Good night:
    Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence.

BRUTUS    Lucius!

    [Enter LUCIUS]
    My gown.

    [Exit LUCIUS]

    Farewell, good Messala:
    Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius,
    Good night, and good repose.

CASSIUS    O my dear brother!
    This was an ill beginning of the night:
    Never come such division 'tween our souls!
    Let it not, Brutus.

BRUTUS    Every thing is well.

CASSIUS    Good night, my lord.

BRUTUS    Good night, good brother.


TITINIUS    |
    | Good night, Lord Brutus.
MESSALA    |


BRUTUS    Farewell, every one.

    [Exeunt all but BRUTUS]

    [Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown]

    Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument?

LUCIUS    Here in the tent.

BRUTUS                      What, thou speak'st drowsily?
    Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd.
    Call Claudius and some other of my men:
    I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent.

LUCIUS    Varro and Claudius!

    [Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS]

VARRO    Calls my lord?

BRUTUS    I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep;
    It may be I shall raise you by and by
    On business to my brother Cassius.

VARRO    So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure.

BRUTUS    I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs;
    It may be I shall otherwise bethink me.
    Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so;
    I put it in the pocket of my gown.

    [VARRO and CLAUDIUS lie down]

LUCIUS    I was sure your lordship did not give it me.

BRUTUS    Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful.
    Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile,
    And touch thy instrument a strain or two?

LUCIUS    Ay, my lord, an't please you.

BRUTUS    It does, my boy:
    I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

LUCIUS    It is my duty, sir.

BRUTUS    I should not urge thy duty past thy might;
    I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

LUCIUS    I have slept, my lord, already.

BRUTUS    It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again;
    I will not hold thee long: if I do live,
    I will be good to thee.

    [Music, and a song]

    This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber,
    Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy,
    That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night;
    I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee:
    If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument;
    I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.
    Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd down
    Where I left reading? Here it is, I think.

    [Enter the Ghost of CAESAR]

    How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here?
    I think it is the weakness of mine eyes
    That shapes this monstrous apparition.
    It comes upon me. Art thou any thing?
    Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil,
    That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare?
    Speak to me what thou art.

GHOST    Thy evil spirit, Brutus.

BRUTUS    Why comest thou?

GHOST    To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.

BRUTUS    Well; then I shall see thee again?

GHOST    Ay, at Philippi.

BRUTUS    Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.

    [Exit Ghost]

    Now I have taken heart thou vanishest:
    Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.
    Boy, Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! Claudius!

LUCIUS    The strings, my lord, are false.

BRUTUS    He thinks he still is at his instrument.
    Lucius, awake!

LUCIUS    My lord?

BRUTUS    Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out?

LUCIUS    My lord, I do not know that I did cry.

BRUTUS    Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing?

LUCIUS    Nothing, my lord.

BRUTUS    Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius!

    [To VARRO]

    Fellow thou, awake!

VARRO    My lord?

CLAUDIUS    My lord?

BRUTUS    Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep?


VARRO    |
    |  Did we, my lord?
CLAUDIUS    |


BRUTUS    Ay: saw you any thing?

VARRO    No, my lord, I saw nothing.

CLAUDIUS    Nor I, my lord.

BRUTUS    Go and commend me to my brother Cassius;
    Bid him set on his powers betimes before,
    And we will follow.


VARRO    |
    |                It shall be done, my lord.
CLAUDIUS    |


    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE I    The plains of Philippi.


    [Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army]

OCTAVIUS    Now, Antony, our hopes are answered:
    You said the enemy would not come down,
    But keep the hills and upper regions;
    It proves not so: their battles are at hand;
    They mean to warn us at Philippi here,
    Answering before we do demand of them.

ANTONY    Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know
    Wherefore they do it: they could be content
    To visit other places; and come down
    With fearful bravery, thinking by this face
    To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage;
    But 'tis not so.

    [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger                      Prepare you, generals:
    The enemy comes on in gallant show;
    Their bloody sign of battle is hung out,
    And something to be done immediately.

ANTONY    Octavius, lead your battle softly on,
    Upon the left hand of the even field.

OCTAVIUS    Upon the right hand I; keep thou the left.

ANTONY    Why do you cross me in this exigent?

OCTAVIUS    I do not cross you; but I will do so.

    [March]

    [Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and their Army;
    LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, and others]

BRUTUS    They stand, and would have parley.

CASSIUS    Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk.

OCTAVIUS    Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle?

ANTONY    No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge.
    Make forth; the generals would have some words.

OCTAVIUS    Stir not until the signal.

BRUTUS    Words before blows: is it so, countrymen?

OCTAVIUS    Not that we love words better, as you do.

BRUTUS    Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius.

ANTONY    In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words:
    Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart,
    Crying 'Long live! hail, Caesar!'

CASSIUS    Antony,
    The posture of your blows are yet unknown;
    But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
    And leave them honeyless.

ANTONY    Not stingless too.

BRUTUS    O, yes, and soundless too;
    For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony,
    And very wisely threat before you sting.

ANTONY    Villains, you did not so, when your vile daggers
    Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar:
    You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds,
    And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet;
    Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind
    Struck Caesar on the neck. O you flatterers!

CASSIUS    Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself:
    This tongue had not offended so to-day,
    If Cassius might have ruled.

OCTAVIUS    Come, come, the cause: if arguing make us sweat,
    The proof of it will turn to redder drops. Look;
    I draw a sword against conspirators;
    When think you that the sword goes up again?
    Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds
    Be well avenged; or till another Caesar
    Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors.

BRUTUS    Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands,
    Unless thou bring'st them with thee.

OCTAVIUS    So I hope;
    I was not born to die on Brutus' sword.

BRUTUS    O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain,
    Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable.

CASSIUS    A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour,
    Join'd with a masker and a reveller!

ANTONY    Old Cassius still!

OCTAVIUS                      Come, Antony, away!
    Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth:
    If you dare fight to-day, come to the field;
    If not, when you have stomachs.

    [Exeunt OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army]

CASSIUS    Why, now, blow wind, swell billow and swim bark!
    The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

BRUTUS    Ho, Lucilius! hark, a word with you.

LUCILIUS    [Standing forth]    My lord?

    [BRUTUS and LUCILIUS converse apart]

CASSIUS    Messala!

MESSALA    [Standing forth]  What says my general?

CASSIUS    Messala,
    This is my birth-day; as this very day
    Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala:
    Be thou my witness that against my will,
    As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set
    Upon one battle all our liberties.
    You know that I held Epicurus strong
    And his opinion: now I change my mind,
    And partly credit things that do presage.
    Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign
    Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch'd,
    Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands;
    Who to Philippi here consorted us:
    This morning are they fled away and gone;
    And in their steads do ravens, crows and kites,
    Fly o'er our heads and downward look on us,
    As we were sickly prey: their shadows seem
    A canopy most fatal, under which
    Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost.

MESSALA    Believe not so.

CASSIUS                      I but believe it partly;
    For I am fresh of spirit and resolved
    To meet all perils very constantly.

BRUTUS    Even so, Lucilius.

CASSIUS                      Now, most noble Brutus,
    The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may,
    Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age!
    But since the affairs of men rest still incertain,
    Let's reason with the worst that may befall.
    If we do lose this battle, then is this
    The very last time we shall speak together:
    What are you then determined to do?

BRUTUS    Even by the rule of that philosophy
    By which I did blame Cato for the death
    Which he did give himself, I know not how,
    But I do find it cowardly and vile,
    For fear of what might fall, so to prevent
    The time of life: arming myself with patience
    To stay the providence of some high powers
    That govern us below.

CASSIUS    Then, if we lose this battle,
    You are contented to be led in triumph
    Thorough the streets of Rome?

BRUTUS    No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble Roman,
    That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome;
    He bears too great a mind. But this same day
    Must end that work the ides of March begun;
    And whether we shall meet again I know not.
    Therefore our everlasting farewell take:
    For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius!
    If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
    If not, why then, this parting was well made.

CASSIUS    For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus!
    If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed;
    If not, 'tis true this parting was well made.

BRUTUS    Why, then, lead on. O, that a man might know
    The end of this day's business ere it come!
    But it sufficeth that the day will end,
    And then the end is known. Come, ho! away!

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE II    The same. The field of battle.


    [Alarum. Enter BRUTUS and MESSALA]

BRUTUS    Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills
    Unto the legions on the other side.

    [Loud alarum]

    Let them set on at once; for I perceive
    But cold demeanor in Octavius' wing,
    And sudden push gives them the overthrow.
    Ride, ride, Messala: let them all come down.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE III    Another part of the field.


    [Alarums. Enter CASSIUS and TITINIUS]

CASSIUS    O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly!
    Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy:
    This ensign here of mine was turning back;
    I slew the coward, and did take it from him.

TITINIUS    O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early;
    Who, having some advantage on Octavius,
    Took it too eagerly: his soldiers fell to spoil,
    Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed.

    [Enter PINDARUS]

PINDARUS    Fly further off, my lord, fly further off;
    Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord
    Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off.

CASSIUS    This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius;
    Are those my tents where I perceive the fire?

TITINIUS    They are, my lord.

CASSIUS                      Titinius, if thou lovest me,
    Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him,
    Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops,
    And here again; that I may rest assured
    Whether yond troops are friend or enemy.

TITINIUS    I will be here again, even with a thought.

    [Exit]

CASSIUS    Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill;
    My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius,
    And tell me what thou notest about the field.

    [PINDARUS ascends the hill]

    This day I breathed first: time is come round,
    And where I did begin, there shall I end;
    My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news?

PINDARUS    [Above]  O my lord!

CASSIUS    What news?

PINDARUS    [Above]  Titinius is enclosed round about
    With horsemen, that make to him on the spur;
    Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him.
    Now, Titinius! Now some light. O, he lights too.
    He's ta'en.

    [Shout]

    And, hark! they shout for joy.

CASSIUS    Come down, behold no more.
    O, coward that I am, to live so long,
    To see my best friend ta'en before my face!

    [PINDARUS descends]

    Come hither, sirrah:
    In Parthia did I take thee prisoner;
    And then I swore thee, saving of thy life,
    That whatsoever I did bid thee do,
    Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath;
    Now be a freeman: and with this good sword,
    That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom.
    Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts;
    And, when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now,
    Guide thou the sword.

    [PINDARUS stabs him]

        Caesar, thou art revenged,
    Even with the sword that kill'd thee.

    [Dies]

PINDARUS    So, I am free; yet would not so have been,
    Durst I have done my will. O Cassius,
    Far from this country Pindarus shall run,
    Where never Roman shall take note of him.

    [Exit]

    [Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA]

MESSALA    It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius
    Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power,
    As Cassius' legions are by Antony.

TITINIUS    These tidings will well comfort Cassius.

MESSALA    Where did you leave him?

TITINIUS    All disconsolate,
    With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill.

MESSALA    Is not that he that lies upon the ground?

TITINIUS    He lies not like the living. O my heart!

MESSALA    Is not that he?

TITINIUS                      No, this was he, Messala,
    But Cassius is no more. O setting sun,
    As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night,
    So in his red blood Cassius' day is set;
    The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone;
    Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done!
    Mistrust of my success hath done this deed.

MESSALA    Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.
    O hateful error, melancholy's child,
    Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
    The things that are not? O error, soon conceived,
    Thou never comest unto a happy birth,
    But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee!

TITINIUS    What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus?

MESSALA    Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet
    The noble Brutus, thrusting this report
    Into his ears; I may say, thrusting it;
    For piercing steel and darts envenomed
    Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus
    As tidings of this sight.

TITINIUS    Hie you, Messala,
    And I will seek for Pindarus the while.

    [Exit MESSALA]

    Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius?
    Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they
    Put on my brows this wreath of victory,
    And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts?
    Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing!
    But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow;
    Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I
    Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace,
    And see how I regarded Caius Cassius.
    By your leave, gods:--this is a Roman's part
    Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart.

    [Kills himself]

    [Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, CATO,
    STRATO, VOLUMNIUS, and LUCILIUS]

BRUTUS    Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie?

MESSALA    Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it.

BRUTUS    Titinius' face is upward.

CATO    He is slain.

BRUTUS    O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet!
    Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords
    In our own proper entrails.

    [Low alarums]

CATO    Brave Titinius!
    Look, whether he have not crown'd dead Cassius!

BRUTUS    Are yet two Romans living such as these?
    The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!
    It is impossible that ever Rome
    Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears
    To this dead man than you shall see me pay.
    I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.
    Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body:
    His funerals shall not be in our camp,
    Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come;
    And come, young Cato; let us to the field.
    Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on:
    'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
    We shall try fortune in a second fight.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE IV    Another part of the field.


    [Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies;
    then BRUTUS, CATO, LUCILIUS, and others]

BRUTUS    Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads!

CATO    What bastard doth not? Who will go with me?
    I will proclaim my name about the field:
    I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!
    A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend;
    I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!

BRUTUS    And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I;
    Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus!

    [Exit]

LUCILIUS    O young and noble Cato, art thou down?
    Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius;
    And mayst be honour'd, being Cato's son.

First Soldier    Yield, or thou diest.

LUCILIUS    Only I yield to die:
    There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight;

    [Offering money]

    Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death.

First Soldier    We must not. A noble prisoner!

Second Soldier    Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en.

First Soldier    I'll tell the news. Here comes the general.

    [Enter ANTONY]

    Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.

ANTONY    Where is he?

LUCILIUS    Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough:
    I dare assure thee that no enemy
    Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus:
    The gods defend him from so great a shame!
    When you do find him, or alive or dead,
    He will be found like Brutus, like himself.

ANTONY    This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you,
    A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe;
    Give him all kindness: I had rather have
    Such men my friends than enemies. Go on,
    And see whether Brutus be alive or dead;
    And bring us word unto Octavius' tent
    How every thing is chanced.

    [Exeunt]




    JULIUS CAESAR


ACT V



SCENE V    Another part of the field.


    [Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and
    VOLUMNIUS]

BRUTUS    Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

CLITUS    Statilius show'd the torch-light, but, my lord,
    He came not back: he is or ta'en or slain.

BRUTUS    Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word;
    It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.

    [Whispers]

CLITUS    What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.

BRUTUS    Peace then! no words.

CLITUS    I'll rather kill myself.

BRUTUS    Hark thee, Dardanius.

    [Whispers]

DARDANIUS    Shall I do such a deed?

CLITUS    O Dardanius!

DARDANIUS    O Clitus!

CLITUS    What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

DARDANIUS    To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.

CLITUS    Now is that noble vessel full of grief,
    That it runs over even at his eyes.

BRUTUS    Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

VOLUMNIUS    What says my lord?

BRUTUS                      Why, this, Volumnius:
    The ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me
    Two several times by night; at Sardis once,
    And, this last night, here in Philippi fields:
    I know my hour is come.

VOLUMNIUS    Not so, my lord.

BRUTUS    Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
    Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
    Our enemies have beat us to the pit:

    [Low alarums]

    It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
    Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
    Thou know'st that we two went to school together:
    Even for that our love of old, I prithee,
    Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.

VOLUMNIUS    That's not an office for a friend, my lord.

    [Alarum still]

CLITUS    Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.

BRUTUS    Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius.
    Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
    Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen,
    My heart doth joy that yet in all my life
    I found no man but he was true to me.
    I shall have glory by this losing day
    More than Octavius and Mark Antony
    By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
    So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
    Hath almost ended his life's history:
    Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
    That have but labour'd to attain this hour.

    [Alarum. Cry within, 'Fly, fly, fly!']

CLITUS    Fly, my lord, fly.

BRUTUS                      Hence! I will follow.

    [Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS]

    I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
    Thou art a fellow of a good respect;
    Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:
    Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,
    While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

STRATO    Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.

BRUTUS    Farewell, good Strato.

    [Runs on his sword]

         Caesar, now be still:
    I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

    [Dies]

    [Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, MESSALA,
    LUCILIUS, and the army]

OCTAVIUS    What man is that?

MESSALA    My master's man. Strato, where is thy master?

STRATO    Free from the bondage you are in, Messala:
    The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
    For Brutus only overcame himself,
    And no man else hath honour by his death.

LUCILIUS    So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus,
    That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true.

OCTAVIUS    All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.
    Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?

STRATO    Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

OCTAVIUS    Do so, good Messala.

MESSALA    How died my master, Strato?

STRATO    I held the sword, and he did run on it.

MESSALA    Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
    That did the latest service to my master.

ANTONY    This was the noblest Roman of them all:
    All the conspirators save only he
    Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;
    He only, in a general honest thought
    And common good to all, made one of them.
    His life was gentle, and the elements
    So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up
    And say to all the world 'This was a man!'

OCTAVIUS    According to his virtue let us use him,
    With all respect and rites of burial.
    Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
    Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.
    So call the field to rest; and let's away,
    To part the glories of this happy day.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


CLAUDIUS    king of Denmark. (KING CLAUDIUS:)

HAMLET    son to the late, and nephew to the present king.

POLONIUS    lord chamberlain. (LORD POLONIUS:)

HORATIO    friend to Hamlet.

LAERTES    son to Polonius.

LUCIANUS    nephew to the king.


VOLTIMAND    |
    |
CORNELIUS    |
    |
ROSENCRANTZ    |  courtiers.
    |
GUILDENSTERN    |
    |
OSRIC    |


    A Gentleman, (Gentlemen:)

    A Priest. (First Priest:)


MARCELLUS    |
    |  officers.
BERNARDO    |


FRANCISCO    a soldier.

REYNALDO    servant to Polonius.
    Players.
    (First Player:)
    (Player King:)
    (Player Queen:)

    Two Clowns, grave-diggers.
    (First Clown:)
    (Second Clown:)

FORTINBRAS    prince of Norway. (PRINCE FORTINBRAS:)

    A Captain.

    English Ambassadors. (First Ambassador:)

GERTRUDE    queen of Denmark, and mother to Hamlet.
    (QUEEN GERTRUDE:)

OPHELIA    daughter to Polonius.

    Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers,
    and other Attendants. (Lord:)
    (First Sailor:)
    (Messenger:)

    Ghost of Hamlet's Father. (Ghost:)



SCENE    Denmark.




    HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE I    Elsinore. A platform before the castle.


    [FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO]

BERNARDO    Who's there?

FRANCISCO    Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

BERNARDO    Long live the king!

FRANCISCO    Bernardo?

BERNARDO    He.

FRANCISCO    You come most carefully upon your hour.

BERNARDO    'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco.

FRANCISCO    For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold,
    And I am sick at heart.

BERNARDO    Have you had quiet guard?

FRANCISCO    Not a mouse stirring.

BERNARDO    Well, good night.
    If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
    The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

FRANCISCO    I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there?

    [Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS]

HORATIO    Friends to this ground.

MARCELLUS    And liegemen to the Dane.

FRANCISCO    Give you good night.

MARCELLUS    O, farewell, honest soldier:
    Who hath relieved you?

FRANCISCO    Bernardo has my place.
    Give you good night.

    [Exit]

MARCELLUS    Holla! Bernardo!

BERNARDO    Say,
    What, is Horatio there?

HORATIO    A piece of him.

BERNARDO    Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus.

MARCELLUS    What, has this thing appear'd again to-night?

BERNARDO    I have seen nothing.

MARCELLUS    Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy,
    And will not let belief take hold of him
    Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us:
    Therefore I have entreated him along
    With us to watch the minutes of this night;
    That if again this apparition come,
    He may approve our eyes and speak to it.

HORATIO    Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.

BERNARDO    Sit down awhile;
    And let us once again assail your ears,
    That are so fortified against our story
    What we have two nights seen.

HORATIO    Well, sit we down,
    And let us hear Bernardo speak of this.

BERNARDO    Last night of all,
    When yond same star that's westward from the pole
    Had made his course to illume that part of heaven
    Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself,
    The bell then beating one,--

    [Enter Ghost]

MARCELLUS    Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!

BERNARDO    In the same figure, like the king that's dead.

MARCELLUS    Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio.

BERNARDO    Looks it not like the king?  mark it, Horatio.

HORATIO    Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.

BERNARDO    It would be spoke to.

MARCELLUS    Question it, Horatio.

HORATIO    What art thou that usurp'st this time of night,
    Together with that fair and warlike form
    In which the majesty of buried Denmark
    Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak!

MARCELLUS    It is offended.

BERNARDO                      See, it stalks away!

HORATIO    Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!

    [Exit Ghost]

MARCELLUS    'Tis gone, and will not answer.

BERNARDO    How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale:
    Is not this something more than fantasy?
    What think you on't?

HORATIO    Before my God, I might not this believe
    Without the sensible and true avouch
    Of mine own eyes.

MARCELLUS                      Is it not like the king?

HORATIO    As thou art to thyself:
    Such was the very armour he had on
    When he the ambitious Norway combated;
    So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle,
    He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice.
    'Tis strange.

MARCELLUS    Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour,
    With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch.

HORATIO    In what particular thought to work I know not;
    But in the gross and scope of my opinion,
    This bodes some strange eruption to our state.

MARCELLUS    Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows,
    Why this same strict and most observant watch
    So nightly toils the subject of the land,
    And why such daily cast of brazen cannon,
    And foreign mart for implements of war;
    Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task
    Does not divide the Sunday from the week;
    What might be toward, that this sweaty haste
    Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day:
    Who is't that can inform me?

HORATIO    That can I;
    At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king,
    Whose image even but now appear'd to us,
    Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway,
    Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride,
    Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet--
    For so this side of our known world esteem'd him--
    Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact,
    Well ratified by law and heraldry,
    Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands
    Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror:
    Against the which, a moiety competent
    Was gaged by our king; which had return'd
    To the inheritance of Fortinbras,
    Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant,
    And carriage of the article design'd,
    His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras,
    Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
    Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there
    Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes,
    For food and diet, to some enterprise
    That hath a stomach in't; which is no other--
    As it doth well appear unto our state--
    But to recover of us, by strong hand
    And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands
    So by his father lost: and this, I take it,
    Is the main motive of our preparations,
    The source of this our watch and the chief head
    Of this post-haste and romage in the land.

BERNARDO    I think it be no other but e'en so:
    Well may it sort that this portentous figure
    Comes armed through our watch; so like the king
    That was and is the question of these wars.

HORATIO    A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.
    In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
    A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
    The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead
    Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets:
    As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
    Disasters in the sun; and the moist star
    Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
    Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:
    And even the like precurse of fierce events,
    As harbingers preceding still the fates
    And prologue to the omen coming on,
    Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
    Unto our climatures and countrymen.--
    But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again!

    [Re-enter Ghost]

    I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
    If thou hast any sound, or use of voice,
    Speak to me:
    If there be any good thing to be done,
    That may to thee do ease and grace to me,
    Speak to me:

    [Cock crows]

    If thou art privy to thy country's fate,
    Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak!
    Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
    Extorted treasure in the womb of earth,
    For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death,
    Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus.

MARCELLUS    Shall I strike at it with my partisan?

HORATIO    Do, if it will not stand.

BERNARDO    'Tis here!

HORATIO    'Tis here!

MARCELLUS    'Tis gone!

    [Exit Ghost]

    We do it wrong, being so majestical,
    To offer it the show of violence;
    For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
    And our vain blows malicious mockery.

BERNARDO    It was about to speak, when the cock crew.

HORATIO    And then it started like a guilty thing
    Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
    The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
    Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
    Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
    Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
    The extravagant and erring spirit hies
    To his confine: and of the truth herein
    This present object made probation.

MARCELLUS    It faded on the crowing of the cock.
    Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
    Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
    The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
    And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
    The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
    No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
    So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

HORATIO    So have I heard and do in part believe it.
    But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,
    Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill:
    Break we our watch up; and by my advice,
    Let us impart what we have seen to-night
    Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
    This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
    Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
    As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?

MARCELLUS    Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know
    Where we shall find him most conveniently.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE II    A room of state in the castle.


    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET,
    POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords,
    and Attendants]

KING CLAUDIUS    Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
    The memory be green, and that it us befitted
    To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom
    To be contracted in one brow of woe,
    Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
    That we with wisest sorrow think on him,
    Together with remembrance of ourselves.
    Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
    The imperial jointress to this warlike state,
    Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,--
    With an auspicious and a dropping eye,
    With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,
    In equal scale weighing delight and dole,--
    Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd
    Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
    With this affair along. For all, our thanks.
    Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras,
    Holding a weak supposal of our worth,
    Or thinking by our late dear brother's death
    Our state to be disjoint and out of frame,
    Colleagued with the dream of his advantage,
    He hath not fail'd to pester us with message,
    Importing the surrender of those lands
    Lost by his father, with all bonds of law,
    To our most valiant brother. So much for him.
    Now for ourself and for this time of meeting:
    Thus much the business is: we have here writ
    To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,--
    Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears
    Of this his nephew's purpose,--to suppress
    His further gait herein; in that the levies,
    The lists and full proportions, are all made
    Out of his subject: and we here dispatch
    You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand,
    For bearers of this greeting to old Norway;
    Giving to you no further personal power
    To business with the king, more than the scope
    Of these delated articles allow.
    Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty.


CORNELIUS    |
    |  In that and all things will we show our duty.
VOLTIMAND    |


KING CLAUDIUS    We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell.

    [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

    And now, Laertes, what's the news with you?
    You told us of some suit; what is't, Laertes?
    You cannot speak of reason to the Dane,
    And loose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
    That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
    The head is not more native to the heart,
    The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
    Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
    What wouldst thou have, Laertes?

LAERTES    My dread lord,
    Your leave and favour to return to France;
    From whence though willingly I came to Denmark,
    To show my duty in your coronation,
    Yet now, I must confess, that duty done,
    My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France
    And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon.

KING CLAUDIUS    Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?

LORD POLONIUS    He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave
    By laboursome petition, and at last
    Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent:
    I do beseech you, give him leave to go.

KING CLAUDIUS    Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
    And thy best graces spend it at thy will!
    But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,--

HAMLET    [Aside]  A little more than kin, and less than kind.

KING CLAUDIUS    How is it that the clouds still hang on you?

HAMLET    Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off,
    And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
    Do not for ever with thy vailed lids
    Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
    Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,
    Passing through nature to eternity.

HAMLET    Ay, madam, it is common.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    If it be,
    Why seems it so particular with thee?

HAMLET    Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not 'seems.'
    'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
    Nor customary suits of solemn black,
    Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
    No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
    Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage,
    Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,
    That can denote me truly: these indeed seem,
    For they are actions that a man might play:
    But I have that within which passeth show;
    These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

KING CLAUDIUS    'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
    To give these mourning duties to your father:
    But, you must know, your father lost a father;
    That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
    In filial obligation for some term
    To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever
    In obstinate condolement is a course
    Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief;
    It shows a will most incorrect to heaven,
    A heart unfortified, a mind impatient,
    An understanding simple and unschool'd:
    For what we know must be and is as common
    As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
    Why should we in our peevish opposition
    Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
    A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
    To reason most absurd: whose common theme
    Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
    From the first corse till he that died to-day,
    'This must be so.' We pray you, throw to earth
    This unprevailing woe, and think of us
    As of a father: for let the world take note,
    You are the most immediate to our throne;
    And with no less nobility of love
    Than that which dearest father bears his son,
    Do I impart toward you. For your intent
    In going back to school in Wittenberg,
    It is most retrograde to our desire:
    And we beseech you, bend you to remain
    Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye,
    Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet:
    I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg.

HAMLET    I shall in all my best obey you, madam.

KING CLAUDIUS    Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply:
    Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come;
    This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet
    Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof,
    No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day,
    But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell,
    And the king's rouse the heavens all bruit again,
    Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away.

    [Exeunt all but HAMLET]

HAMLET    O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
    Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
    Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
    His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
    How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
    Seem to me all the uses of this world!
    Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
    That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
    Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
    But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:
    So excellent a king; that was, to this,
    Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother
    That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
    Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
    Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
    As if increase of appetite had grown
    By what it fed on: and yet, within a month--
    Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!--
    A little month, or ere those shoes were old
    With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
    Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she--
    O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
    Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle,
    My father's brother, but no more like my father
    Than I to Hercules: within a month:
    Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
    Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
    She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
    With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
    It is not nor it cannot come to good:
    But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.

    [Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO]

HORATIO    Hail to your lordship!

HAMLET    I am glad to see you well:
    Horatio,--or I do forget myself.

HORATIO    The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.

HAMLET    Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:
    And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus?

MARCELLUS    My good lord--

HAMLET    I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir.
    But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg?

HORATIO    A truant disposition, good my lord.

HAMLET    I would not hear your enemy say so,
    Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
    To make it truster of your own report
    Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
    But what is your affair in Elsinore?
    We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.

HORATIO    My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.

HAMLET    I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;
    I think it was to see my mother's wedding.

HORATIO    Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.

HAMLET    Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats
    Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
    Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
    Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
    My father!--methinks I see my father.

HORATIO    Where, my lord?

HAMLET                      In my mind's eye, Horatio.

HORATIO    I saw him once; he was a goodly king.

HAMLET    He was a man, take him for all in all,
    I shall not look upon his like again.

HORATIO    My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.

HAMLET    Saw? who?

HORATIO    My lord, the king your father.

HAMLET    The king my father!

HORATIO    Season your admiration for awhile
    With an attent ear, till I may deliver,
    Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
    This marvel to you.

HAMLET    For God's love, let me hear.

HORATIO    Two nights together had these gentlemen,
    Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
    In the dead vast and middle of the night,
    Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father,
    Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe,
    Appears before them, and with solemn march
    Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
    By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes,
    Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distilled
    Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
    Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
    In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
    And I with them the third night kept the watch;
    Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
    Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
    The apparition comes: I knew your father;
    These hands are not more like.

HAMLET    But where was this?

MARCELLUS    My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.

HAMLET    Did you not speak to it?

HORATIO    My lord, I did;
    But answer made it none: yet once methought
    It lifted up its head and did address
    Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
    But even then the morning cock crew loud,
    And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
    And vanish'd from our sight.

HAMLET    'Tis very strange.

HORATIO    As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true;
    And we did think it writ down in our duty
    To let you know of it.

HAMLET    Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
    Hold you the watch to-night?


MARCELLUS    |
    |    We do, my lord.
BERNARDO    |


HAMLET    Arm'd, say you?


MARCELLUS    |
    |  Arm'd, my lord.
BERNARDO    |


HAMLET    From top to toe?


MARCELLUS    |
    |             My lord, from head to foot.
BERNARDO    |


HAMLET    Then saw you not his face?

HORATIO    O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.

HAMLET    What, look'd he frowningly?

HORATIO    A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.

HAMLET    Pale or red?

HORATIO    Nay, very pale.

HAMLET                      And fix'd his eyes upon you?

HORATIO    Most constantly.

HAMLET                      I would I had been there.

HORATIO    It would have much amazed you.

HAMLET    Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?

HORATIO    While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.


MARCELLUS    |
    | Longer, longer.
BERNARDO    |


HORATIO    Not when I saw't.

HAMLET                      His beard was grizzled--no?

HORATIO    It was, as I have seen it in his life,
    A sable silver'd.

HAMLET                      I will watch to-night;
    Perchance 'twill walk again.

HORATIO    I warrant it will.

HAMLET    If it assume my noble father's person,
    I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
    And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
    If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
    Let it be tenable in your silence still;
    And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
    Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
    I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:
    Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
    I'll visit you.

All                      Our duty to your honour.

HAMLET    Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

    [Exeunt all but HAMLET]

    My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;
    I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!
    Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,
    Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

    [Exit]




    HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE III    A room in Polonius' house.


    [Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA]

LAERTES    My necessaries are embark'd: farewell:
    And, sister, as the winds give benefit
    And convoy is assistant, do not sleep,
    But let me hear from you.

OPHELIA    Do you doubt that?

LAERTES    For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,
    Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,
    A violet in the youth of primy nature,
    Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
    The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

OPHELIA           No more but so?

LAERTES    Think it no more;
    For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
    In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,
    The inward service of the mind and soul
    Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
    And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
    The virtue of his will: but you must fear,
    His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
    For he himself is subject to his birth:
    He may not, as unvalued persons do,
    Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
    The safety and health of this whole state;
    And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
    Unto the voice and yielding of that body
    Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
    It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
    As he in his particular act and place
    May give his saying deed; which is no further
    Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
    Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
    If with too credent ear you list his songs,
    Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
    To his unmaster'd importunity.
    Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
    And keep you in the rear of your affection,
    Out of the shot and danger of desire.
    The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
    If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
    Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:
    The canker galls the infants of the spring,
    Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
    And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
    Contagious blastments are most imminent.
    Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:
    Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.

OPHELIA    I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
    As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
    Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
    Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
    Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
    Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
    And recks not his own rede.

LAERTES    O, fear me not.
    I stay too long: but here my father comes.

    [Enter POLONIUS]

    A double blessing is a double grace,
    Occasion smiles upon a second leave.

LORD POLONIUS    Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!
    The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,
    And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee!
    And these few precepts in thy memory
    See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
    Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
    Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
    Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
    Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
    But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
    Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware
    Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
    Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
    Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
    Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
    Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
    But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
    For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
    And they in France of the best rank and station
    Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
    Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
    For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
    And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
    This above all: to thine ownself be true,
    And it must follow, as the night the day,
    Thou canst not then be false to any man.
    Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!

LAERTES    Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS    The time invites you; go; your servants tend.

LAERTES    Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well
    What I have said to you.

OPHELIA    'Tis in my memory lock'd,
    And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

LAERTES    Farewell.

    [Exit]

LORD POLONIUS    What is't, Ophelia, be hath said to you?

OPHELIA    So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet.

LORD POLONIUS    Marry, well bethought:
    'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
    Given private time to you; and you yourself
    Have of your audience been most free and bounteous:
    If it be so, as so 'tis put on me,
    And that in way of caution, I must tell you,
    You do not understand yourself so clearly
    As it behoves my daughter and your honour.
    What is between you? give me up the truth.

OPHELIA    He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
    Of his affection to me.

LORD POLONIUS    Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl,
    Unsifted in such perilous circumstance.
    Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

OPHELIA    I do not know, my lord, what I should think.

LORD POLONIUS    Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby;
    That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay,
    Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly;
    Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase,
    Running it thus--you'll tender me a fool.

OPHELIA    My lord, he hath importuned me with love
    In honourable fashion.

LORD POLONIUS    Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to.

OPHELIA    And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
    With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

LORD POLONIUS    Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know,
    When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul
    Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter,
    Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,
    Even in their promise, as it is a-making,
    You must not take for fire. From this time
    Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence;
    Set your entreatments at a higher rate
    Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet,
    Believe so much in him, that he is young
    And with a larger tether may he walk
    Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia,
    Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
    Not of that dye which their investments show,
    But mere implorators of unholy suits,
    Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds,
    The better to beguile. This is for all:
    I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
    Have you so slander any moment leisure,
    As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
    Look to't, I charge you: come your ways.

OPHELIA    I shall obey, my lord.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE IV    The platform.


    [Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS]

HAMLET    The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold.

HORATIO    It is a nipping and an eager air.

HAMLET    What hour now?

HORATIO                      I think it lacks of twelve.

HAMLET    No, it is struck.

HORATIO    Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season
    Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk.

    [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within]

    What does this mean, my lord?

HAMLET    The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse,
    Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels;
    And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down,
    The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out
    The triumph of his pledge.

HORATIO    Is it a custom?

HAMLET    Ay, marry, is't:
    But to my mind, though I am native here
    And to the manner born, it is a custom
    More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
    This heavy-headed revel east and west
    Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations:
    They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase
    Soil our addition; and indeed it takes
    From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
    The pith and marrow of our attribute.
    So, oft it chances in particular men,
    That for some vicious mole of nature in them,
    As, in their birth--wherein they are not guilty,
    Since nature cannot choose his origin--
    By the o'ergrowth of some complexion,
    Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason,
    Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens
    The form of plausive manners, that these men,
    Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,
    Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,--
    Their virtues else--be they as pure as grace,
    As infinite as man may undergo--
    Shall in the general censure take corruption
    From that particular fault: the dram of eale
    Doth all the noble substance of a doubt
    To his own scandal.

HORATIO    Look, my lord, it comes!

    [Enter Ghost]

HAMLET    Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
    Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd,
    Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
    Be thy intents wicked or charitable,
    Thou comest in such a questionable shape
    That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
    King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me!
    Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell
    Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,
    Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre,
    Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd,
    Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws,
    To cast thee up again. What may this mean,
    That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel
    Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
    Making night hideous; and we fools of nature
    So horridly to shake our disposition
    With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
    Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do?

    [Ghost beckons HAMLET]

HORATIO    It beckons you to go away with it,
    As if it some impartment did desire
    To you alone.

MARCELLUS                      Look, with what courteous action
    It waves you to a more removed ground:
    But do not go with it.

HORATIO    No, by no means.

HAMLET    It will not speak; then I will follow it.

HORATIO    Do not, my lord.

HAMLET                      Why, what should be the fear?
    I do not set my life in a pin's fee;
    And for my soul, what can it do to that,
    Being a thing immortal as itself?
    It waves me forth again: I'll follow it.

HORATIO    What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
    Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff
    That beetles o'er his base into the sea,
    And there assume some other horrible form,
    Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason
    And draw you into madness? think of it:
    The very place puts toys of desperation,
    Without more motive, into every brain
    That looks so many fathoms to the sea
    And hears it roar beneath.

HAMLET    It waves me still.
    Go on; I'll follow thee.

MARCELLUS    You shall not go, my lord.

HAMLET    Hold off your hands.

HORATIO    Be ruled; you shall not go.

HAMLET    My fate cries out,
    And makes each petty artery in this body
    As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve.
    Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen.
    By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!
    I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee.

    [Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET]

HORATIO    He waxes desperate with imagination.

MARCELLUS    Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him.

HORATIO    Have after. To what issue will this come?

MARCELLUS    Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

HORATIO    Heaven will direct it.

MARCELLUS    Nay, let's follow him.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT I



SCENE V    Another part of the platform.


    [Enter GHOST and HAMLET]

HAMLET    Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further.

Ghost    Mark me.

HAMLET           I will.

Ghost                      My hour is almost come,
    When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames
    Must render up myself.

HAMLET    Alas, poor ghost!

Ghost    Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
    To what I shall unfold.

HAMLET    Speak; I am bound to hear.

Ghost     So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear.

HAMLET    What?

Ghost    I am thy father's spirit,
    Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
    And for the day confined to fast in fires,
    Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
    Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid
    To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
    I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
    Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
    Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
    Thy knotted and combined locks to part
    And each particular hair to stand on end,
    Like quills upon the fretful porpentine:
    But this eternal blazon must not be
    To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list!
    If thou didst ever thy dear father love--

HAMLET    O God!

Ghost    Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

HAMLET    Murder!

Ghost    Murder most foul, as in the best it is;
    But this most foul, strange and unnatural.

HAMLET    Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
    As meditation or the thoughts of love,
    May sweep to my revenge.

Ghost    I find thee apt;
    And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed
    That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf,
    Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:
    'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
    A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
    Is by a forged process of my death
    Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth,
    The serpent that did sting thy father's life
    Now wears his crown.

HAMLET    O my prophetic soul! My uncle!

Ghost    Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,
    With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,--
    O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power
    So to seduce!--won to his shameful lust
    The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen:
    O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there!
    From me, whose love was of that dignity
    That it went hand in hand even with the vow
    I made to her in marriage, and to decline
    Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor
    To those of mine!
    But virtue, as it never will be moved,
    Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,
    So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
    Will sate itself in a celestial bed,
    And prey on garbage.
    But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;
    Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,
    My custom always of the afternoon,
    Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,
    With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,
    And in the porches of my ears did pour
    The leperous distilment; whose effect
    Holds such an enmity with blood of man
    That swift as quicksilver it courses through
    The natural gates and alleys of the body,
    And with a sudden vigour doth posset
    And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
    The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine;
    And a most instant tetter bark'd about,
    Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,
    All my smooth body.
    Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand
    Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd:
    Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,
    Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd,
    No reckoning made, but sent to my account
    With all my imperfections on my head:
    O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!
    If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;
    Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
    A couch for luxury and damned incest.
    But, howsoever thou pursuest this act,
    Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
    Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven
    And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
    To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!
    The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,
    And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
    Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me.

    [Exit]

HAMLET    O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else?
    And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart;
    And you, my sinews, grow not instant old,
    But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee!
    Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
    In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
    Yea, from the table of my memory
    I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
    All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
    That youth and observation copied there;
    And thy commandment all alone shall live
    Within the book and volume of my brain,
    Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
    O most pernicious woman!
    O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
    My tables,--meet it is I set it down,
    That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
    At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark:

    [Writing]

    So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word;
    It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me.'
    I have sworn 't.


MARCELLUS    |
    | [Within]  My lord, my lord,--
HORATIO    |


MARCELLUS    [Within]    Lord Hamlet,--

HORATIO    [Within]    Heaven secure him!

HAMLET    So be it!

HORATIO    [Within]  Hillo, ho, ho, my lord!

HAMLET    Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come.

    [Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS]

MARCELLUS    How is't, my noble lord?

HORATIO    What news, my lord?

HAMLET    O, wonderful!

HORATIO                      Good my lord, tell it.

HAMLET    No; you'll reveal it.

HORATIO    Not I, my lord, by heaven.

MARCELLUS    Nor I, my lord.

HAMLET    How say you, then; would heart of man once think it?
    But you'll be secret?


HORATIO    |
    |                   Ay, by heaven, my lord.
MARCELLUS    |


HAMLET    There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark
    But he's an arrant knave.

HORATIO    There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
    To tell us this.

HAMLET                      Why, right; you are i' the right;
    And so, without more circumstance at all,
    I hold it fit that we shake hands and part:
    You, as your business and desire shall point you;
    For every man has business and desire,
    Such as it is; and for mine own poor part,
    Look you, I'll go pray.

HORATIO    These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.

HAMLET    I'm sorry they offend you, heartily;
    Yes, 'faith heartily.

HORATIO    There's no offence, my lord.

HAMLET    Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio,
    And much offence too. Touching this vision here,
    It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you:
    For your desire to know what is between us,
    O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends,
    As you are friends, scholars and soldiers,
    Give me one poor request.

HORATIO    What is't, my lord? we will.

HAMLET    Never make known what you have seen to-night.


HORATIO    |
    | My lord, we will not.
MARCELLUS    |


HAMLET    Nay, but swear't.

HORATIO    In faith,
    My lord, not I.

MARCELLUS                      Nor I, my lord, in faith.

HAMLET    Upon my sword.

MARCELLUS                      We have sworn, my lord, already.

HAMLET    Indeed, upon my sword, indeed.

Ghost    [Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET    Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there,
    truepenny?
    Come on--you hear this fellow in the cellarage--
    Consent to swear.

HORATIO                      Propose the oath, my lord.

HAMLET    Never to speak of this that you have seen,
    Swear by my sword.

Ghost    [Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET    Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our ground.
    Come hither, gentlemen,
    And lay your hands again upon my sword:
    Never to speak of this that you have heard,
    Swear by my sword.

Ghost    [Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET    Well said, old mole! canst work i' the earth so fast?
    A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends.

HORATIO    O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!

HAMLET    And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
    There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
    Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come;
    Here, as before, never, so help you mercy,
    How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself,
    As I perchance hereafter shall think meet
    To put an antic disposition on,
    That you, at such times seeing me, never shall,
    With arms encumber'd thus, or this headshake,
    Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,
    As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,'
    Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,'
    Or such ambiguous giving out, to note
    That you know aught of me: this not to do,
    So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear.

Ghost    [Beneath]  Swear.

HAMLET    Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!

    [They swear]

                So, gentlemen,
    With all my love I do commend me to you:
    And what so poor a man as Hamlet is
    May do, to express his love and friending to you,
    God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together;
    And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.
    The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
    That ever I was born to set it right!
    Nay, come, let's go together.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT II



SCENE I    A room in POLONIUS' house.


    [Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO]

LORD POLONIUS    Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.

REYNALDO    I will, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS    You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,
    Before you visit him, to make inquire
    Of his behavior.

REYNALDO                      My lord, I did intend it.

LORD POLONIUS    Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,
    Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
    And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,
    What company, at what expense; and finding
    By this encompassment and drift of question
    That they do know my son, come you more nearer
    Than your particular demands will touch it:
    Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him;
    As thus, 'I know his father and his friends,
    And in part him: ' do you mark this, Reynaldo?

REYNALDO    Ay, very well, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS    'And in part him; but' you may say 'not well:
    But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild;
    Addicted so and so:' and there put on him
    What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
    As may dishonour him; take heed of that;
    But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips
    As are companions noted and most known
    To youth and liberty.

REYNALDO    As gaming, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS    Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,
    Drabbing: you may go so far.

REYNALDO    My lord, that would dishonour him.

LORD POLONIUS    'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge
    You must not put another scandal on him,
    That he is open to incontinency;
    That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly
    That they may seem the taints of liberty,
    The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind,
    A savageness in unreclaimed blood,
    Of general assault.

REYNALDO    But, my good lord,--

LORD POLONIUS    Wherefore should you do this?

REYNALDO    Ay, my lord,
    I would know that.

LORD POLONIUS                      Marry, sir, here's my drift;
    And I believe, it is a fetch of wit:
    You laying these slight sullies on my son,
    As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working, Mark you,
    Your party in converse, him you would sound,
    Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes
    The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured
    He closes with you in this consequence;
    'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman,'
    According to the phrase or the addition
    Of man and country.

REYNALDO    Very good, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS    And then, sir, does he this--he does--what was I
    about to say? By the mass, I was about to say
    something: where did I leave?

REYNALDO    At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,'
    and 'gentleman.'

LORD POLONIUS    At 'closes in the consequence,' ay, marry;
    He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman;
    I saw him yesterday, or t' other day,
    Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say,
    There was a' gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse;
    There falling out at tennis:' or perchance,
    'I saw him enter such a house of sale,'
    Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth.
    See you now;
    Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth:
    And thus do we of wisdom and of reach,
    With windlasses and with assays of bias,
    By indirections find directions out:
    So by my former lecture and advice,
    Shall you my son. You have me, have you not?

REYNALDO    My lord, I have.

LORD POLONIUS                      God be wi' you; fare you well.

REYNALDO    Good my lord!

LORD POLONIUS    Observe his inclination in yourself.

REYNALDO    I shall, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS    And let him ply his music.

REYNALDO    Well, my lord.

LORD POLONIUS    Farewell!

    [Exit REYNALDO]

    [Enter OPHELIA]

    How now, Ophelia! what's the matter?

OPHELIA    O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted!

LORD POLONIUS    With what, i' the name of God?

OPHELIA    My lord, as I was sewing in my closet,
    Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced;
    No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd,
    Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle;
    Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other;
    And with a look so piteous in purport
    As if he had been loosed out of hell
    To speak of horrors,--he comes before me.

LORD POLONIUS    Mad for thy love?

OPHELIA                      My lord, I do not know;
    But truly, I do fear it.

LORD POLONIUS    What said he?

OPHELIA    He took me by the wrist and held me hard;
    Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
    And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
    He falls to such perusal of my face
    As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;
    At last, a little shaking of mine arm
    And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
    He raised a sigh so piteous and profound
    As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
    And end his being: that done, he lets me go:
    And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
    He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
    For out o' doors he went without their helps,
    And, to the last, bended their light on me.

LORD POLONIUS    Come, go with me: I will go seek the king.
    This is the very ecstasy of love,
    Whose violent property fordoes itself
    And leads the will to desperate undertakings
    As oft as any passion under heaven
    That does afflict our natures. I am sorry.
    What, have you given him any hard words of late?

OPHELIA    No, my good lord, but, as you did command,
    I did repel his fetters and denied
    His access to me.

LORD POLONIUS                      That hath made him mad.
    I am sorry that with better heed and judgment
    I had not quoted him: I fear'd he did but trifle,
    And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my jealousy!
    By heaven, it is as proper to our age
    To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions
    As it is common for the younger sort
    To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king:
    This must be known; which, being kept close, might
    move
    More grief to hide than hate to utter love.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT II



SCENE II    A room in the castle.


    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ,
    GUILDENSTERN, and Attendants]

KING CLAUDIUS    Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!
    Moreover that we much did long to see you,
    The need we have to use you did provoke
    Our hasty sending. Something have you heard
    Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it,
    Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man
    Resembles that it was. What it should be,
    More than his father's death, that thus hath put him
    So much from the understanding of himself,
    I cannot dream of: I entreat you both,
    That, being of so young days brought up with him,
    And sith so neighbour'd to his youth and havior,
    That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court
    Some little time: so by your companies
    To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,
    So much as from occasion you may glean,
    Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,
    That, open'd, lies within our remedy.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you;
    And sure I am two men there are not living
    To whom he more adheres. If it will please you
    To show us so much gentry and good will
    As to expend your time with us awhile,
    For the supply and profit of our hope,
    Your visitation shall receive such thanks
    As fits a king's remembrance.

ROSENCRANTZ    Both your majesties
    Might, by the sovereign power you have of us,
    Put your dread pleasures more into command
    Than to entreaty.

GUILDENSTERN                      But we both obey,
    And here give up ourselves, in the full bent
    To lay our service freely at your feet,
    To be commanded.

KING CLAUDIUS    Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz:
    And I beseech you instantly to visit
    My too much changed son. Go, some of you,
    And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is.

GUILDENSTERN    Heavens make our presence and our practises
    Pleasant and helpful to him!

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Ay, amen!

    [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and some
    Attendants]

    [Enter POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS    The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord,
    Are joyfully return'd.

KING CLAUDIUS    Thou still hast been the father of good news.

LORD POLONIUS    Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege,
    I hold my duty, as I hold my soul,
    Both to my God and to my gracious king:
    And I do think, or else this brain of mine
    Hunts not the trail of policy so sure
    As it hath used to do, that I have found
    The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy.

KING CLAUDIUS    O, speak of that; that do I long to hear.

LORD POLONIUS    Give first admittance to the ambassadors;
    My news shall be the fruit to that great feast.

KING CLAUDIUS    Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in.

    [Exit POLONIUS]

    He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found
    The head and source of all your son's distemper.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    I doubt it is no other but the main;
    His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage.

KING CLAUDIUS    Well, we shall sift him.

    [Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

           Welcome, my good friends!
    Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway?

VOLTIMAND    Most fair return of greetings and desires.
    Upon our first, he sent out to suppress
    His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd
    To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack;
    But, better look'd into, he truly found
    It was against your highness: whereat grieved,
    That so his sickness, age and impotence
    Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests
    On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys;
    Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine
    Makes vow before his uncle never more
    To give the assay of arms against your majesty.
    Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy,
    Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee,
    And his commission to employ those soldiers,
    So levied as before, against the Polack:
    With an entreaty, herein further shown,

    [Giving a paper]

    That it might please you to give quiet pass
    Through your dominions for this enterprise,
    On such regards of safety and allowance
    As therein are set down.

KING CLAUDIUS    It likes us well;
    And at our more consider'd time well read,
    Answer, and think upon this business.
    Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour:
    Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together:
    Most welcome home!

    [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS]

LORD POLONIUS                      This business is well ended.
    My liege, and madam, to expostulate
    What majesty should be, what duty is,
    Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
    Were nothing but to waste night, day and time.
    Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
    And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
    I will be brief: your noble son is mad:
    Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
    What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
    But let that go.

QUEEN GERTRUDE                      More matter, with less art.

LORD POLONIUS    Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
    That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity;
    And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure;
    But farewell it, for I will use no art.
    Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains
    That we find out the cause of this effect,
    Or rather say, the cause of this defect,
    For this effect defective comes by cause:
    Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend.
    I have a daughter--have while she is mine--
    Who, in her duty and obedience, mark,
    Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise.

    [Reads]

    'To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most
    beautified Ophelia,'--
    That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is
    a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus:

    [Reads]

    'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.'

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Came this from Hamlet to her?

LORD POLONIUS    Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful.

    [Reads]

    'Doubt thou the stars are fire;
    Doubt that the sun doth move;
    Doubt truth to be a liar;
    But never doubt I love.
    'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers;
    I have not art to reckon my groans: but that
    I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.
    'Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst
    this machine is to him, HAMLET.'
    This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me,
    And more above, hath his solicitings,
    As they fell out by time, by means and place,
    All given to mine ear.

KING CLAUDIUS    But how hath she
    Received his love?

LORD POLONIUS                      What do you think of me?

KING CLAUDIUS    As of a man faithful and honourable.

LORD POLONIUS    I would fain prove so. But what might you think,
    When I had seen this hot love on the wing--
    As I perceived it, I must tell you that,
    Before my daughter told me--what might you,
    Or my dear majesty your queen here, think,
    If I had play'd the desk or table-book,
    Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,
    Or look'd upon this love with idle sight;
    What might you think? No, I went round to work,
    And my young mistress thus I did bespeak:
    'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star;
    This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her,
    That she should lock herself from his resort,
    Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
    Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
    And he, repulsed--a short tale to make--
    Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
    Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
    Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,
    Into the madness wherein now he raves,
    And all we mourn for.

KING CLAUDIUS    Do you think 'tis this?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    It may be, very likely.

LORD POLONIUS    Hath there been such a time--I'd fain know that--
    That I have positively said 'Tis so,'
    When it proved otherwise?

KING CLAUDIUS    Not that I know.

LORD POLONIUS    [Pointing to his head and shoulder]

    Take this from this, if this be otherwise:
    If circumstances lead me, I will find
    Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
    Within the centre.

KING CLAUDIUS                      How may we try it further?

LORD POLONIUS    You know, sometimes he walks four hours together
    Here in the lobby.

QUEEN GERTRUDE                      So he does indeed.

LORD POLONIUS    At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him:
    Be you and I behind an arras then;
    Mark the encounter: if he love her not
    And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,
    Let me be no assistant for a state,
    But keep a farm and carters.

KING CLAUDIUS    We will try it.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading.

LORD POLONIUS    Away, I do beseech you, both away:
    I'll board him presently.

    [Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, and
    Attendants]

    [Enter HAMLET, reading]

            O, give me leave:
    How does my good Lord Hamlet?

HAMLET    Well, God-a-mercy.

LORD POLONIUS    Do you know me, my lord?

HAMLET    Excellent well; you are a fishmonger.

LORD POLONIUS    Not I, my lord.

HAMLET    Then I would you were so honest a man.

LORD POLONIUS    Honest, my lord!

HAMLET    Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be
    one man picked out of ten thousand.

LORD POLONIUS    That's very true, my lord.

HAMLET    For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a
    god kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter?

LORD POLONIUS    I have, my lord.

HAMLET    Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a
    blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive.
    Friend, look to 't.

LORD POLONIUS    [Aside]  How say you by that? Still harping on my
    daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I
    was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and
    truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for
    love; very near this. I'll speak to him again.
    What do you read, my lord?

HAMLET    Words, words, words.

LORD POLONIUS    What is the matter, my lord?

HAMLET    Between who?

LORD POLONIUS    I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

HAMLET    Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here
    that old men have grey beards, that their faces are
    wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and
    plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of
    wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir,
    though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet
    I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for
    yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab
    you could go backward.

LORD POLONIUS    [Aside]  Though this be madness, yet there is method
    in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord?

HAMLET    Into my grave.

LORD POLONIUS    Indeed, that is out o' the air.

    [Aside]

    How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness
    that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity
    could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will
    leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of
    meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable
    lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you.

HAMLET    You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will
    more willingly part withal: except my life, except
    my life, except my life.

LORD POLONIUS    Fare you well, my lord.

HAMLET    These tedious old fools!

    [Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

LORD POLONIUS    You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is.

ROSENCRANTZ    [To POLONIUS]  God save you, sir!

    [Exit POLONIUS]

GUILDENSTERN    My honoured lord!

ROSENCRANTZ    My most dear lord!

HAMLET    My excellent good friends! How dost thou,
    Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both?

ROSENCRANTZ    As the indifferent children of the earth.

GUILDENSTERN    Happy, in that we are not over-happy;
    On fortune's cap we are not the very button.

HAMLET    Nor the soles of her shoe?

ROSENCRANTZ    Neither, my lord.

HAMLET    Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of
    her favours?

GUILDENSTERN    'Faith, her privates we.

HAMLET    In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she
    is a strumpet. What's the news?

ROSENCRANTZ    None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest.

HAMLET    Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true.
    Let me question more in particular: what have you,
    my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune,
    that she sends you to prison hither?

GUILDENSTERN    Prison, my lord!

HAMLET    Denmark's a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ    Then is the world one.

HAMLET    A goodly one; in which there are many confines,
    wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.

ROSENCRANTZ    We think not so, my lord.

HAMLET    Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
    either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me
    it is a prison.

ROSENCRANTZ    Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too
    narrow for your mind.

HAMLET    O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count
    myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I
    have bad dreams.

GUILDENSTERN    Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very
    substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

HAMLET    A dream itself is but a shadow.

ROSENCRANTZ    Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a
    quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.

HAMLET    Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and
    outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we
    to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason.


ROSENCRANTZ    |
    | We'll wait upon you.
GUILDENSTERN    |


HAMLET    No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest
    of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest
    man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the
    beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore?

ROSENCRANTZ    To visit you, my lord; no other occasion.

HAMLET    Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I
    thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are
    too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it
    your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come,
    deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak.

GUILDENSTERN    What should we say, my lord?

HAMLET    Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent
    for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks
    which your modesties have not craft enough to colour:
    I know the good king and queen have sent for you.

ROSENCRANTZ    To what end, my lord?

HAMLET    That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by
    the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of
    our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved
    love, and by what more dear a better proposer could
    charge you withal, be even and direct with me,
    whether you were sent for, or no?

ROSENCRANTZ    [Aside to GUILDENSTERN]  What say you?

HAMLET    [Aside]  Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you
    love me, hold not off.

GUILDENSTERN    My lord, we were sent for.

HAMLET    I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation
    prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king
    and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but
    wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all
    custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
    with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
    earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
    excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
    o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
    with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
    me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
    What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
    how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
    express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
    in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
    world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
    what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
    me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
    you seem to say so.

ROSENCRANTZ    My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

HAMLET    Why did you laugh then, when I said 'man delights not me'?

ROSENCRANTZ    To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what
    lenten entertainment the players shall receive from
    you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they
    coming, to offer you service.

HAMLET    He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty
    shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight
    shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not
    sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part
    in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose
    lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall
    say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt
    for't. What players are they?

ROSENCRANTZ    Even those you were wont to take delight in, the
    tragedians of the city.

HAMLET    How chances it they travel? their residence, both
    in reputation and profit, was better both ways.

ROSENCRANTZ    I think their inhibition comes by the means of the
    late innovation.

HAMLET    Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was
    in the city? are they so followed?

ROSENCRANTZ    No, indeed, are they not.

HAMLET    How comes it? do they grow rusty?

ROSENCRANTZ    Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but
    there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases,
    that cry out on the top of question, and are most
    tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the
    fashion, and so berattle the common stages--so they
    call them--that many wearing rapiers are afraid of
    goose-quills and dare scarce come thither.

HAMLET    What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are
    they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no
    longer than they can sing? will they not say
    afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common
    players--as it is most like, if their means are no
    better--their writers do them wrong, to make them
    exclaim against their own succession?

ROSENCRANTZ    'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and
    the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to
    controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid
    for argument, unless the poet and the player went to
    cuffs in the question.

HAMLET    Is't possible?

GUILDENSTERN    O, there has been much throwing about of brains.

HAMLET    Do the boys carry it away?

ROSENCRANTZ    Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too.

HAMLET    It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of
    Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while
    my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an
    hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little.
    'Sblood, there is something in this more than
    natural, if philosophy could find it out.

    [Flourish of trumpets within]

GUILDENSTERN    There are the players.

HAMLET    Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands,
    come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion
    and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb,
    lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you,
    must show fairly outward, should more appear like
    entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my
    uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived.

GUILDENSTERN    In what, my dear lord?

HAMLET    I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is
    southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.

    [Enter POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS    Well be with you, gentlemen!

HAMLET    Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a
    hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet
    out of his swaddling-clouts.

ROSENCRANTZ    Happily he's the second time come to them; for they
    say an old man is twice a child.

HAMLET    I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players;
    mark it. You say right, sir: o' Monday morning;
    'twas so indeed.

LORD POLONIUS    My lord, I have news to tell you.

HAMLET    My lord, I have news to tell you.
    When Roscius was an actor in Rome,--

LORD POLONIUS    The actors are come hither, my lord.

HAMLET    Buz, buz!

LORD POLONIUS    Upon mine honour,--

HAMLET    Then came each actor on his ass,--

LORD POLONIUS    The best actors in the world, either for tragedy,
    comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical,
    historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical-
    comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or
    poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor
    Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the
    liberty, these are the only men.

HAMLET    O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou!

LORD POLONIUS    What a treasure had he, my lord?

HAMLET    Why,
    'One fair daughter and no more,
    The which he loved passing well.'

LORD POLONIUS    [Aside]  Still on my daughter.

HAMLET    Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah?

LORD POLONIUS    If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter
    that I love passing well.

HAMLET    Nay, that follows not.

LORD POLONIUS    What follows, then, my lord?

HAMLET    Why,
    'As by lot, God wot,'
    and then, you know,
    'It came to pass, as most like it was,'--
    the first row of the pious chanson will show you
    more; for look, where my abridgement comes.

    [Enter four or five Players]

    You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad
    to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old
    friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last:
    comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young
    lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is
    nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the
    altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like
    apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the
    ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en
    to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see:
    we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste
    of your quality; come, a passionate speech.

First Player    What speech, my lord?

HAMLET    I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was
    never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the
    play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas
    caviare to the general: but it was--as I received
    it, and others, whose judgments in such matters
    cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well
    digested in the scenes, set down with as much
    modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there
    were no sallets in the lines to make the matter
    savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might
    indict the author of affectation; but called it an
    honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very
    much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I
    chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and
    thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of
    Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin
    at this line: let me see, let me see--
    'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'--
    it is not so:--it begins with Pyrrhus:--
    'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,
    Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
    When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
    Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd
    With heraldry more dismal; head to foot
    Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd
    With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
    Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
    That lend a tyrannous and damned light
    To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire,
    And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore,
    With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
    Old grandsire Priam seeks.'
    So, proceed you.

LORD POLONIUS    'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and
    good discretion.

First Player    'Anon he finds him
    Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword,
    Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
    Repugnant to command: unequal match'd,
    Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide;
    But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
    The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium,
    Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top
    Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash
    Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword,
    Which was declining on the milky head
    Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick:
    So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood,
    And like a neutral to his will and matter,
    Did nothing.
    But, as we often see, against some storm,
    A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still,
    The bold winds speechless and the orb below
    As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder
    Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause,
    Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work;
    And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall
    On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne
    With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword
    Now falls on Priam.
    Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods,
    In general synod 'take away her power;
    Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel,
    And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven,
    As low as to the fiends!'

LORD POLONIUS    This is too long.

HAMLET    It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee,
    say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he
    sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba.

First Player    'But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--'

HAMLET    'The mobled queen?'

LORD POLONIUS    That's good; 'mobled queen' is good.

First Player    'Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames
    With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head
    Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe,
    About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins,
    A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up;
    Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd,
    'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have
    pronounced:
    But if the gods themselves did see her then
    When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport
    In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs,
    The instant burst of clamour that she made,
    Unless things mortal move them not at all,
    Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
    And passion in the gods.'

LORD POLONIUS    Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has
    tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more.

HAMLET    'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon.
    Good my lord, will you see the players well
    bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for
    they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the
    time: after your death you were better have a bad
    epitaph than their ill report while you live.

LORD POLONIUS    My lord, I will use them according to their desert.

HAMLET    God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man
    after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping?
    Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less
    they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty.
    Take them in.

LORD POLONIUS    Come, sirs.

HAMLET    Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow.

    [Exit POLONIUS with all the Players but the First]

    Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the
    Murder of Gonzago?

First Player    Ay, my lord.

HAMLET    We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need,
    study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which
    I would set down and insert in't, could you not?

First Player    Ay, my lord.

HAMLET    Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him
    not.

    [Exit First Player]

    My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are
    welcome to Elsinore.

ROSENCRANTZ    Good my lord!

HAMLET    Ay, so, God be wi' ye;

    [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

          Now I am alone.
    O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
    Is it not monstrous that this player here,
    But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
    Could force his soul so to his own conceit
    That from her working all his visage wann'd,
    Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
    A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
    With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing!
    For Hecuba!
    What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
    That he should weep for her? What would he do,
    Had he the motive and the cue for passion
    That I have? He would drown the stage with tears
    And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
    Make mad the guilty and appal the free,
    Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed
    The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I,
    A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
    Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
    And can say nothing; no, not for a king,
    Upon whose property and most dear life
    A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
    Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
    Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
    Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat,
    As deep as to the lungs? who does me this?
    Ha!
    'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be
    But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall
    To make oppression bitter, or ere this
    I should have fatted all the region kites
    With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
    Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
    O, vengeance!
    Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,
    That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
    Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
    Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
    And fall a-cursing, like a very drab,
    A scullion!
    Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard
    That guilty creatures sitting at a play
    Have by the very cunning of the scene
    Been struck so to the soul that presently
    They have proclaim'd their malefactions;
    For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
    With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
    Play something like the murder of my father
    Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
    I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
    I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
    May be the devil: and the devil hath power
    To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
    Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
    As he is very potent with such spirits,
    Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
    More relative than this: the play 's the thing
    Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

    [Exit]




    HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE I    A room in the castle.


    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS,
    OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS    And can you, by no drift of circumstance,
    Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
    Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
    With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?

ROSENCRANTZ    He does confess he feels himself distracted;
    But from what cause he will by no means speak.

GUILDENSTERN    Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
    But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof,
    When we would bring him on to some confession
    Of his true state.

QUEEN GERTRUDE                      Did he receive you well?

ROSENCRANTZ    Most like a gentleman.

GUILDENSTERN    But with much forcing of his disposition.

ROSENCRANTZ    Niggard of question; but, of our demands,
    Most free in his reply.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Did you assay him?
    To any pastime?

ROSENCRANTZ    Madam, it so fell out, that certain players
    We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him;
    And there did seem in him a kind of joy
    To hear of it: they are about the court,
    And, as I think, they have already order
    This night to play before him.

LORD POLONIUS    'Tis most true:
    And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties
    To hear and see the matter.

KING CLAUDIUS    With all my heart; and it doth much content me
    To hear him so inclined.
    Good gentlemen, give him a further edge,
    And drive his purpose on to these delights.

ROSENCRANTZ    We shall, my lord.

    [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS                      Sweet Gertrude, leave us too;
    For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither,
    That he, as 'twere by accident, may here
    Affront Ophelia:
    Her father and myself, lawful espials,
    Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen,
    We may of their encounter frankly judge,
    And gather by him, as he is behaved,
    If 't be the affliction of his love or no
    That thus he suffers for.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    I shall obey you.
    And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish
    That your good beauties be the happy cause
    Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues
    Will bring him to his wonted way again,
    To both your honours.

OPHELIA    Madam, I wish it may.

    [Exit QUEEN GERTRUDE]

LORD POLONIUS    Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you,
    We will bestow ourselves.

    [To OPHELIA]

            Read on this book;
    That show of such an exercise may colour
    Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,--
    'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage
    And pious action we do sugar o'er
    The devil himself.

KING CLAUDIUS    [Aside]          O, 'tis too true!
    How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!
    The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art,
    Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it
    Than is my deed to my most painted word:
    O heavy burthen!

LORD POLONIUS    I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord.

    [Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS]

    [Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET    To be, or not to be: that is the question:
    Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
    The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
    Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
    And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
    No more; and by a sleep to say we end
    The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
    To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
    For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
    When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
    Must give us pause: there's the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life;
    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
    The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
    The insolence of office and the spurns
    That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after death,
    The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
    No traveller returns, puzzles the will
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
    And enterprises of great pith and moment
    With this regard their currents turn awry,
    And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
    The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins remember'd.

OPHELIA    Good my lord,
    How does your honour for this many a day?

HAMLET    I humbly thank you; well, well, well.

OPHELIA    My lord, I have remembrances of yours,
    That I have longed long to re-deliver;
    I pray you, now receive them.

HAMLET    No, not I;
    I never gave you aught.

OPHELIA    My honour'd lord, you know right well you did;
    And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed
    As made the things more rich: their perfume lost,
    Take these again; for to the noble mind
    Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
    There, my lord.

HAMLET    Ha, ha! are you honest?

OPHELIA    My lord?

HAMLET    Are you fair?

OPHELIA    What means your lordship?

HAMLET    That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should
    admit no discourse to your beauty.

OPHELIA    Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than
    with honesty?

HAMLET    Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner
    transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the
    force of honesty can translate beauty into his
    likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the
    time gives it proof. I did love you once.

OPHELIA    Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

HAMLET    You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot
    so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of
    it: I loved you not.

OPHELIA    I was the more deceived.

HAMLET    Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a
    breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest;
    but yet I could accuse me of such things that it
    were better my mother had not borne me: I am very
    proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at
    my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
    imagination to give them shape, or time to act them
    in. What should such fellows as I do crawling
    between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,
    all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery.
    Where's your father?

OPHELIA    At home, my lord.

HAMLET    Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the
    fool no where but in's own house. Farewell.

OPHELIA    O, help him, you sweet heavens!

HAMLET    If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for
    thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as
    snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a
    nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs
    marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough
    what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go,
    and quickly too. Farewell.

OPHELIA    O heavenly powers, restore him!

HAMLET    I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God
    has given you one face, and you make yourselves
    another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and
    nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness
    your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath
    made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages:
    those that are married already, all but one, shall
    live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a
    nunnery, go.

    [Exit]

OPHELIA    O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
    The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword;
    The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
    The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
    The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
    And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,
    That suck'd the honey of his music vows,
    Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
    Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;
    That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
    Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me,
    To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!

    [Re-enter KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS]

KING CLAUDIUS    Love! his affections do not that way tend;
    Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
    Was not like madness. There's something in his soul,
    O'er which his melancholy sits on brood;
    And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
    Will be some danger: which for to prevent,
    I have in quick determination
    Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England,
    For the demand of our neglected tribute
    Haply the seas and countries different
    With variable objects shall expel
    This something-settled matter in his heart,
    Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus
    From fashion of himself. What think you on't?

LORD POLONIUS    It shall do well: but yet do I believe
    The origin and commencement of his grief
    Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia!
    You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said;
    We heard it all. My lord, do as you please;
    But, if you hold it fit, after the play
    Let his queen mother all alone entreat him
    To show his grief: let her be round with him;
    And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear
    Of all their conference. If she find him not,
    To England send him, or confine him where
    Your wisdom best shall think.

KING CLAUDIUS    It shall be so:
    Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE II    A hall in the castle.


    [Enter HAMLET and Players]

HAMLET    Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to
    you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it,
    as many of your players do, I had as lief the
    town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air
    too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently;
    for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say,
    the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget
    a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it
    offends me to the soul to hear a robustious
    periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to
    very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who
    for the most part are capable of nothing but
    inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such
    a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it
    out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.

First Player    I warrant your honour.

HAMLET    Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion
    be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the
    word to the action; with this special o'erstep not
    the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is
    from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the
    first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the
    mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature,
    scorn her own image, and the very age and body of
    the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone,
    or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful
    laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the
    censure of the which one must in your allowance
    o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be
    players that I have seen play, and heard others
    praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely,
    that, neither having the accent of Christians nor
    the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so
    strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of
    nature's journeymen had made men and not made them
    well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

First Player    I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us,
    sir.

HAMLET    O, reform it altogether. And let those that play
    your clowns speak no more than is set down for them;
    for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to
    set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh
    too; though, in the mean time, some necessary
    question of the play be then to be considered:
    that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition
    in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready.

    [Exeunt Players]

    [Enter POLONIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

    How now, my lord! I will the king hear this piece of work?

LORD POLONIUS    And the queen too, and that presently.

HAMLET    Bid the players make haste.

    [Exit POLONIUS]

    Will you two help to hasten them?


ROSENCRANTZ    |
    |  We will, my lord.
GUILDENSTERN    |


    [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

HAMLET    What ho! Horatio!

    [Enter HORATIO]

HORATIO    Here, sweet lord, at your service.

HAMLET    Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
    As e'er my conversation coped withal.

HORATIO    O, my dear lord,--

HAMLET                      Nay, do not think I flatter;
    For what advancement may I hope from thee
    That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,
    To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
    No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,
    And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
    Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
    Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice
    And could of men distinguish, her election
    Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been
    As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
    A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
    Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those
    Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
    That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
    To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
    That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
    In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
    As I do thee.--Something too much of this.--
    There is a play to-night before the king;
    One scene of it comes near the circumstance
    Which I have told thee of my father's death:
    I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot,
    Even with the very comment of thy soul
    Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt
    Do not itself unkennel in one speech,
    It is a damned ghost that we have seen,
    And my imaginations are as foul
    As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note;
    For I mine eyes will rivet to his face,
    And after we will both our judgments join
    In censure of his seeming.

HORATIO    Well, my lord:
    If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing,
    And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft.

HAMLET    They are coming to the play; I must be idle:
    Get you a place.

    [Danish march. A flourish. Enter KING CLAUDIUS,
    QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ,
    GUILDENSTERN, and others]

KING CLAUDIUS    How fares our cousin Hamlet?

HAMLET    Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat
    the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so.

KING CLAUDIUS    I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words
    are not mine.

HAMLET    No, nor mine now.

    [To POLONIUS]

    My lord, you played once i' the university, you say?

LORD POLONIUS    That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor.

HAMLET    What did you enact?

LORD POLONIUS    I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i' the
    Capitol; Brutus killed me.

HAMLET    It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf
    there. Be the players ready?

ROSENCRANTZ    Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me.

HAMLET    No, good mother, here's metal more attractive.

LORD POLONIUS    [To KING CLAUDIUS]  O, ho! do you mark that?

HAMLET    Lady, shall I lie in your lap?

    [Lying down at OPHELIA's feet]

OPHELIA    No, my lord.

HAMLET    I mean, my head upon your lap?

OPHELIA    Ay, my lord.

HAMLET    Do you think I meant country matters?

OPHELIA    I think nothing, my lord.

HAMLET    That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

OPHELIA    What is, my lord?

HAMLET    Nothing.

OPHELIA    You are merry, my lord.

HAMLET    Who, I?

OPHELIA    Ay, my lord.

HAMLET    O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do
    but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my
    mother looks, and my father died within these two hours.

OPHELIA    Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord.

HAMLET    So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for
    I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two
    months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's
    hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half
    a year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches,
    then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with
    the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for, O,
    the hobby-horse is forgot.'

    [Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters]

    [Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen
    embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes
    show of protestation unto him. He takes her up,
    and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down
    upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep,
    leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his
    crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King's
    ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King
    dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner,
    with some two or three Mutes, comes in again,
    seeming to lament with her. The dead body is
    carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with
    gifts: she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but
    in the end accepts his love]

    [Exeunt]

OPHELIA    What means this, my lord?

HAMLET    Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.

OPHELIA    Belike this show imports the argument of the play.

    [Enter Prologue]

HAMLET    We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot
    keep counsel; they'll tell all.

OPHELIA    Will he tell us what this show meant?

HAMLET    Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you
    ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.

OPHELIA    You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play.

Prologue         For us, and for our tragedy,
    Here stooping to your clemency,
    We beg your hearing patiently.

    [Exit]

HAMLET    Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?

OPHELIA    'Tis brief, my lord.

HAMLET    As woman's love.

    [Enter two Players, King and Queen]

Player King       Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round
    Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground,
    And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen
    About the world have times twelve thirties been,
    Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands
    Unite commutual in most sacred bands.

Player Queen       So many journeys may the sun and moon
    Make us again count o'er ere love be done!
    But, woe is me, you are so sick of late,
    So far from cheer and from your former state,
    That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust,
    Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must:
    For women's fear and love holds quantity;
    In neither aught, or in extremity.
    Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know;
    And as my love is sized, my fear is so:
    Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
    Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

Player King    'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too;
    My operant powers their functions leave to do:
    And thou shalt live in this fair world behind,
    Honour'd, beloved; and haply one as kind
    For husband shalt thou--

Player Queen    O, confound the rest!
    Such love must needs be treason in my breast:
    In second husband let me be accurst!
    None wed the second but who kill'd the first.

HAMLET    [Aside]  Wormwood, wormwood.

Player Queen       The instances that second marriage move
    Are base respects of thrift, but none of love:
    A second time I kill my husband dead,
    When second husband kisses me in bed.

Player King       I do believe you think what now you speak;
    But what we do determine oft we break.
    Purpose is but the slave to memory,
    Of violent birth, but poor validity;
    Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree;
    But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be.
    Most necessary 'tis that we forget
    To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt:
    What to ourselves in passion we propose,
    The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
    The violence of either grief or joy
    Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
    Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
    Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.
    This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
    That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
    For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
    Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
    The great man down, you mark his favourite flies;
    The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.
    And hitherto doth love on fortune tend;
    For who not needs shall never lack a friend,
    And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
    Directly seasons him his enemy.
    But, orderly to end where I begun,
    Our wills and fates do so contrary run
    That our devices still are overthrown;
    Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own:
    So think thou wilt no second husband wed;
    But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead.

Player Queen       Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light!
    Sport and repose lock from me day and night!
    To desperation turn my trust and hope!
    An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope!
    Each opposite that blanks the face of joy
    Meet what I would have well and it destroy!
    Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife,
    If, once a widow, ever I be wife!

HAMLET    If she should break it now!

Player King    'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile;
    My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile
    The tedious day with sleep.

    [Sleeps]

Player Queen    Sleep rock thy brain,
    And never come mischance between us twain!

    [Exit]

HAMLET    Madam, how like you this play?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    The lady protests too much, methinks.

HAMLET    O, but she'll keep her word.

KING CLAUDIUS    Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't?

HAMLET    No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence
    i' the world.

KING CLAUDIUS    What do you call the play?

HAMLET    The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play
    is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is
    the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see
    anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o'
    that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it
    touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our
    withers are unwrung.

    [Enter LUCIANUS]

    This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.

OPHELIA    You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

HAMLET    I could interpret between you and your love, if I
    could see the puppets dallying.

OPHELIA    You are keen, my lord, you are keen.

HAMLET    It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.

OPHELIA    Still better, and worse.

HAMLET    So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer;
    pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come:
    'the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.'

LUCIANUS       Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing;
    Confederate season, else no creature seeing;
    Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected,
    With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected,
    Thy natural magic and dire property,
    On wholesome life usurp immediately.

    [Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears]

HAMLET    He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His
    name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in
    choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer
    gets the love of Gonzago's wife.

OPHELIA    The king rises.

HAMLET    What, frighted with false fire!

QUEEN GERTRUDE    How fares my lord?

LORD POLONIUS    Give o'er the play.

KING CLAUDIUS    Give me some light: away!

All    Lights, lights, lights!

    [Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO]

HAMLET         Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
    The hart ungalled play;
    For some must watch, while some must sleep:
    So runs the world away.
    Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers-- if
    the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me--with two
    Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a
    fellowship in a cry of players, sir?

HORATIO    Half a share.

HAMLET    A whole one, I.
    For thou dost know, O Damon dear,
    This realm dismantled was
    Of Jove himself; and now reigns here
    A very, very--pajock.

HORATIO    You might have rhymed.

HAMLET    O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a
    thousand pound. Didst perceive?

HORATIO    Very well, my lord.

HAMLET    Upon the talk of the poisoning?

HORATIO    I did very well note him.

HAMLET    Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders!
    For if the king like not the comedy,
    Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy.
    Come, some music!

    [Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

GUILDENSTERN    Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you.

HAMLET    Sir, a whole history.

GUILDENSTERN    The king, sir,--

HAMLET    Ay, sir, what of him?

GUILDENSTERN    Is in his retirement marvellous distempered.

HAMLET    With drink, sir?

GUILDENSTERN    No, my lord, rather with choler.

HAMLET    Your wisdom should show itself more richer to
    signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him
    to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far
    more choler.

GUILDENSTERN    Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and
    start not so wildly from my affair.

HAMLET    I am tame, sir: pronounce.

GUILDENSTERN    The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of
    spirit, hath sent me to you.

HAMLET    You are welcome.

GUILDENSTERN    Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right
    breed. If it shall please you to make me a
    wholesome answer, I will do your mother's
    commandment: if not, your pardon and my return
    shall be the end of my business.

HAMLET    Sir, I cannot.

GUILDENSTERN    What, my lord?

HAMLET    Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but,
    sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command;
    or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no
    more, but to the matter: my mother, you say,--

ROSENCRANTZ    Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her
    into amazement and admiration.

HAMLET    O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But
    is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's
    admiration? Impart.

ROSENCRANTZ    She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you
    go to bed.

HAMLET    We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have
    you any further trade with us?

ROSENCRANTZ    My lord, you once did love me.

HAMLET    So I do still, by these pickers and stealers.

ROSENCRANTZ    Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you
    do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if
    you deny your griefs to your friend.

HAMLET    Sir, I lack advancement.

ROSENCRANTZ    How can that be, when you have the voice of the king
    himself for your succession in Denmark?

HAMLET    Ay, but sir, 'While the grass grows,'--the proverb
    is something musty.

    [Re-enter Players with recorders]

    O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with
    you:--why do you go about to recover the wind of me,
    as if you would drive me into a toil?

GUILDENSTERN    O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too
    unmannerly.

HAMLET    I do not well understand that. Will you play upon
    this pipe?

GUILDENSTERN    My lord, I cannot.

HAMLET    I pray you.

GUILDENSTERN    Believe me, I cannot.

HAMLET    I do beseech you.

GUILDENSTERN    I know no touch of it, my lord.

HAMLET    'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with
    your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your
    mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.
    Look you, these are the stops.

GUILDENSTERN    But these cannot I command to any utterance of
    harmony; I have not the skill.

HAMLET    Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of
    me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know
    my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my
    mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to
    the top of my compass: and there is much music,
    excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot
    you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am
    easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what
    instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you
    cannot play upon me.

    [Enter POLONIUS]

    God bless you, sir!

LORD POLONIUS    My lord, the queen would speak with you, and
    presently.

HAMLET    Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?

LORD POLONIUS    By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.

HAMLET    Methinks it is like a weasel.

LORD POLONIUS    It is backed like a weasel.

HAMLET    Or like a whale?

LORD POLONIUS    Very like a whale.

HAMLET    Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool
    me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by.

LORD POLONIUS    I will say so.

HAMLET    By and by is easily said.

    [Exit POLONIUS]

    Leave me, friends.

    [Exeunt all but HAMLET]

    Tis now the very witching time of night,
    When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
    Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
    And do such bitter business as the day
    Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.
    O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever
    The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom:
    Let me be cruel, not unnatural:
    I will speak daggers to her, but use none;
    My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites;
    How in my words soever she be shent,
    To give them seals never, my soul, consent!

    [Exit]



    HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE III    A room in the castle.


    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS    I like him not, nor stands it safe with us
    To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you;
    I your commission will forthwith dispatch,
    And he to England shall along with you:
    The terms of our estate may not endure
    Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow
    Out of his lunacies.

GUILDENSTERN    We will ourselves provide:
    Most holy and religious fear it is
    To keep those many many bodies safe
    That live and feed upon your majesty.

ROSENCRANTZ    The single and peculiar life is bound,
    With all the strength and armour of the mind,
    To keep itself from noyance; but much more
    That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest
    The lives of many. The cease of majesty
    Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
    What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel,
    Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,
    To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
    Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
    Each small annexment, petty consequence,
    Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
    Did the king sigh, but with a general groan.

KING CLAUDIUS    Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage;
    For we will fetters put upon this fear,
    Which now goes too free-footed.


ROSENCRANTZ    |
    |    We will haste us.
GUILDENSTERN    |


    [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

    [Enter POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS    My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:
    Behind the arras I'll convey myself,
    To hear the process; and warrant she'll tax him home:
    And, as you said, and wisely was it said,
    'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother,
    Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear
    The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege:
    I'll call upon you ere you go to bed,
    And tell you what I know.

KING CLAUDIUS    Thanks, dear my lord.

    [Exit POLONIUS]

    O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven;
    It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
    A brother's murder. Pray can I not,
    Though inclination be as sharp as will:
    My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
    And, like a man to double business bound,
    I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
    And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
    Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
    Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
    To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
    But to confront the visage of offence?
    And what's in prayer but this two-fold force,
    To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
    Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
    My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
    Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?
    That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
    Of those effects for which I did the murder,
    My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.
    May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
    In the corrupted currents of this world
    Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
    And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
    Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above;
    There is no shuffling, there the action lies
    In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
    Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
    To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
    Try what repentance can: what can it not?
    Yet what can it when one can not repent?
    O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
    O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
    Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay!
    Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel,
    Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe!
    All may be well.

    [Retires and kneels]

    [Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET    Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
    And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven;
    And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd:
    A villain kills my father; and for that,
    I, his sole son, do this same villain send
    To heaven.
    O, this is hire and salary, not revenge.
    He took my father grossly, full of bread;
    With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
    And how his audit stands who knows save heaven?
    But in our circumstance and course of thought,
    'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged,
    To take him in the purging of his soul,
    When he is fit and season'd for his passage?
    No!
    Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
    When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
    Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
    At gaming, swearing, or about some act
    That has no relish of salvation in't;
    Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,
    And that his soul may be as damn'd and black
    As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays:
    This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.

    [Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS    [Rising]  My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
    Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

    [Exit]




    HAMLET


ACT III



SCENE IV    The Queen's closet.


    [Enter QUEEN MARGARET and POLONIUS]

LORD POLONIUS    He will come straight. Look you lay home to him:
    Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with,
    And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between
    Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here.
    Pray you, be round with him.

HAMLET    [Within]  Mother, mother, mother!

QUEEN GERTRUDE    I'll warrant you,
    Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming.

    [POLONIUS hides behind the arras]

    [Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET    Now, mother, what's the matter?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.

HAMLET    Mother, you have my father much offended.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.

HAMLET    Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Why, how now, Hamlet!

HAMLET    What's the matter now?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Have you forgot me?

HAMLET    No, by the rood, not so:
    You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
    And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.

HAMLET    Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge;
    You go not till I set you up a glass
    Where you may see the inmost part of you.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me?
    Help, help, ho!

LORD POLONIUS    [Behind]  What, ho! help, help, help!

HAMLET    [Drawing]  How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead!

    [Makes a pass through the arras]

LORD POLONIUS    [Behind]  O, I am slain!

    [Falls and dies]

QUEEN GERTRUDE    O me, what hast thou done?

HAMLET    Nay, I know not:
    Is it the king?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    O, what a rash and bloody deed is this!

HAMLET    A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother,
    As kill a king, and marry with his brother.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    As kill a king!

HAMLET                      Ay, lady, 'twas my word.

    [Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS]

    Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!
    I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune;
    Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger.
    Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down,
    And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,
    If it be made of penetrable stuff,
    If damned custom have not brass'd it so
    That it is proof and bulwark against sense.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue
    In noise so rude against me?

HAMLET    Such an act
    That blurs the grace and blush of modesty,
    Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose
    From the fair forehead of an innocent love
    And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows
    As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed
    As from the body of contraction plucks
    The very soul, and sweet religion makes
    A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow:
    Yea, this solidity and compound mass,
    With tristful visage, as against the doom,
    Is thought-sick at the act.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Ay me, what act,
    That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?

HAMLET    Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
    The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
    See, what a grace was seated on this brow;
    Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
    An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
    A station like the herald Mercury
    New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;
    A combination and a form indeed,
    Where every god did seem to set his seal,
    To give the world assurance of a man:
    This was your husband. Look you now, what follows:
    Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear,
    Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
    Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,
    And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes?
    You cannot call it love; for at your age
    The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble,
    And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment
    Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have,
    Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense
    Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err,
    Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd
    But it reserved some quantity of choice,
    To serve in such a difference. What devil was't
    That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind?
    Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
    Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
    Or but a sickly part of one true sense
    Could not so mope.
    O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
    If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
    To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
    And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
    When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
    Since frost itself as actively doth burn
    And reason panders will.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    O Hamlet, speak no more:
    Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul;
    And there I see such black and grained spots
    As will not leave their tinct.

HAMLET    Nay, but to live
    In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
    Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love
    Over the nasty sty,--

QUEEN GERTRUDE    O, speak to me no more;
    These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears;
    No more, sweet Hamlet!

HAMLET    A murderer and a villain;
    A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
    Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;
    A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
    That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
    And put it in his pocket!

QUEEN GERTRUDE    No more!

HAMLET    A king of shreds and patches,--

    [Enter Ghost]

    Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings,
    You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Alas, he's mad!

HAMLET    Do you not come your tardy son to chide,
    That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by
    The important acting of your dread command? O, say!

Ghost    Do not forget: this visitation
    Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.
    But, look, amazement on thy mother sits:
    O, step between her and her fighting soul:
    Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works:
    Speak to her, Hamlet.

HAMLET    How is it with you, lady?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Alas, how is't with you,
    That you do bend your eye on vacancy
    And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?
    Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;
    And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
    Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
    Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son,
    Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper
    Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look?

HAMLET    On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares!
    His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
    Would make them capable. Do not look upon me;
    Lest with this piteous action you convert
    My stern effects: then what I have to do
    Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    To whom do you speak this?

HAMLET    Do you see nothing there?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.

HAMLET    Nor did you nothing hear?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    No, nothing but ourselves.

HAMLET    Why, look you there! look, how it steals away!
    My father, in his habit as he lived!
    Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal!

    [Exit Ghost]

QUEEN GERTRUDE    This the very coinage of your brain:
    This bodiless creation ecstasy
    Is very cunning in.

HAMLET    Ecstasy!
    My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time,
    And makes as healthful music: it is not madness
    That I have utter'd: bring me to the test,
    And I the matter will re-word; which madness
    Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
    Lay not that mattering unction to your soul,
    That not your trespass, but my madness speaks:
    It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
    Whilst rank corruption, mining all within,
    Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven;
    Repent what's past; avoid what is to come;
    And do not spread the compost on the weeds,
    To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue;
    For in the fatness of these pursy times
    Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg,
    Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain.

HAMLET    O, throw away the worser part of it,
    And live the purer with the other half.
    Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed;
    Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
    That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
    Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,
    That to the use of actions fair and good
    He likewise gives a frock or livery,
    That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night,
    And that shall lend a kind of easiness
    To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
    For use almost can change the stamp of nature,
    And either [         ] the devil, or throw him out
    With wondrous potency. Once more, good night:
    And when you are desirous to be bless'd,
    I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord,

    [Pointing to POLONIUS]

    I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so,
    To punish me with this and this with me,
    That I must be their scourge and minister.
    I will bestow him, and will answer well
    The death I gave him. So, again, good night.
    I must be cruel, only to be kind:
    Thus bad begins and worse remains behind.
    One word more, good lady.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    What shall I do?

HAMLET    Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
    Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed;
    Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse;
    And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses,
    Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers,
    Make you to ravel all this matter out,
    That I essentially am not in madness,
    But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know;
    For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise,
    Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib,
    Such dear concernings hide? who would do so?
    No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
    Unpeg the basket on the house's top.
    Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
    To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
    And break your own neck down.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Be thou assured, if words be made of breath,
    And breath of life, I have no life to breathe
    What thou hast said to me.

HAMLET    I must to England; you know that?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Alack,
    I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on.

HAMLET    There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows,
    Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
    They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way,
    And marshal me to knavery. Let it work;
    For 'tis the sport to have the engineer
    Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard
    But I will delve one yard below their mines,
    And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet,
    When in one line two crafts directly meet.
    This man shall set me packing:
    I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room.
    Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor
    Is now most still, most secret and most grave,
    Who was in life a foolish prating knave.
    Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you.
    Good night, mother.

    [Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in POLONIUS]




    HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE I    A room in the castle.


    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ,
    and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS    There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves:
    You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them.
    Where is your son?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Bestow this place on us a little while.

    [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

    Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night!

KING CLAUDIUS    What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend
    Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit,
    Behind the arras hearing something stir,
    Whips out his rapier, cries, 'A rat, a rat!'
    And, in this brainish apprehension, kills
    The unseen good old man.

KING CLAUDIUS    O heavy deed!
    It had been so with us, had we been there:
    His liberty is full of threats to all;
    To you yourself, to us, to every one.
    Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd?
    It will be laid to us, whose providence
    Should have kept short, restrain'd and out of haunt,
    This mad young man: but so much was our love,
    We would not understand what was most fit;
    But, like the owner of a foul disease,
    To keep it from divulging, let it feed
    Even on the pith of Life. Where is he gone?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    To draw apart the body he hath kill'd:
    O'er whom his very madness, like some ore
    Among a mineral of metals base,
    Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done.

KING CLAUDIUS    O Gertrude, come away!
    The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch,
    But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed
    We must, with all our majesty and skill,
    Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern!

    [Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

    Friends both, go join you with some further aid:
    Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain,
    And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him:
    Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body
    Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this.

    [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

    Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends;
    And let them know, both what we mean to do,
    And what's untimely done [                ]
    Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter,
    As level as the cannon to his blank,
    Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name,
    And hit the woundless air. O, come away!
    My soul is full of discord and dismay.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE II    Another room in the castle.


    [Enter HAMLET]

HAMLET    Safely stowed.


ROSENCRANTZ:    |
    |   [Within]  Hamlet! Lord Hamlet!
GUILDENSTERN:    |


HAMLET    What noise? who calls on Hamlet?
    O, here they come.

    [Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

ROSENCRANTZ    What have you done, my lord, with the dead body?

HAMLET    Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin.

ROSENCRANTZ    Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence
    And bear it to the chapel.

HAMLET    Do not believe it.

ROSENCRANTZ    Believe what?

HAMLET    That I can keep your counsel and not mine own.
    Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what
    replication should be made by the son of a king?

ROSENCRANTZ    Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

HAMLET    Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his
    rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the
    king best service in the end: he keeps them, like
    an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to
    be last swallowed: when he needs what you have
    gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you
    shall be dry again.

ROSENCRANTZ    I understand you not, my lord.

HAMLET    I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a
    foolish ear.

ROSENCRANTZ    My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go
    with us to the king.

HAMLET    The body is with the king, but the king is not with
    the body. The king is a thing--

GUILDENSTERN    A thing, my lord!

HAMLET    Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE III    Another room in the castle.


    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, attended]

KING CLAUDIUS    I have sent to seek him, and to find the body.
    How dangerous is it that this man goes loose!
    Yet must not we put the strong law on him:
    He's loved of the distracted multitude,
    Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes;
    And where tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd,
    But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even,
    This sudden sending him away must seem
    Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown
    By desperate appliance are relieved,
    Or not at all.

    [Enter ROSENCRANTZ]

    How now! what hath befall'n?

ROSENCRANTZ    Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord,
    We cannot get from him.

KING CLAUDIUS    But where is he?

ROSENCRANTZ    Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure.

KING CLAUDIUS    Bring him before us.

ROSENCRANTZ    Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord.

    [Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN]

KING CLAUDIUS    Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius?

HAMLET    At supper.

KING CLAUDIUS    At supper! where?

HAMLET    Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain
    convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your
    worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all
    creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for
    maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but
    variable service, two dishes, but to one table:
    that's the end.

KING CLAUDIUS    Alas, alas!

HAMLET    A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a
    king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.

KING CLAUDIUS    What dost you mean by this?

HAMLET    Nothing but to show you how a king may go a
    progress through the guts of a beggar.

KING CLAUDIUS    Where is Polonius?

HAMLET    In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger
    find him not there, seek him i' the other place
    yourself. But indeed, if you find him not within
    this month, you shall nose him as you go up the
    stairs into the lobby.

KING CLAUDIUS    Go seek him there.

    [To some Attendants]

HAMLET    He will stay till ye come.

    [Exeunt Attendants]

KING CLAUDIUS    Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,--
    Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve
    For that which thou hast done,--must send thee hence
    With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself;
    The bark is ready, and the wind at help,
    The associates tend, and every thing is bent
    For England.

HAMLET                      For England!

KING CLAUDIUS    Ay, Hamlet.

HAMLET    Good.

KING CLAUDIUS    So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes.

HAMLET    I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for
    England! Farewell, dear mother.

KING CLAUDIUS    Thy loving father, Hamlet.

HAMLET    My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man
    and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England!

    [Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS    Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard;
    Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night:
    Away! for every thing is seal'd and done
    That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste.

    [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN]

    And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught--
    As my great power thereof may give thee sense,
    Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red
    After the Danish sword, and thy free awe
    Pays homage to us--thou mayst not coldly set
    Our sovereign process; which imports at full,
    By letters congruing to that effect,
    The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England;
    For like the hectic in my blood he rages,
    And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done,
    Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun.

    [Exit]




    HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE IV    A plain in Denmark.


    [Enter FORTINBRAS, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching]

PRINCE FORTINBRAS    Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king;
    Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras
    Craves the conveyance of a promised march
    Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous.
    If that his majesty would aught with us,
    We shall express our duty in his eye;
    And let him know so.

Captain    I will do't, my lord.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS    Go softly on.

    [Exeunt FORTINBRAS and Soldiers]

    [Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others]

HAMLET    Good sir, whose powers are these?

Captain    They are of Norway, sir.

HAMLET    How purposed, sir, I pray you?

Captain    Against some part of Poland.

HAMLET    Who commands them, sir?

Captain    The nephews to old Norway, Fortinbras.

HAMLET    Goes it against the main of Poland, sir,
    Or for some frontier?

Captain    Truly to speak, and with no addition,
    We go to gain a little patch of ground
    That hath in it no profit but the name.
    To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it;
    Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole
    A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

HAMLET    Why, then the Polack never will defend it.

Captain    Yes, it is already garrison'd.

HAMLET    Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats
    Will not debate the question of this straw:
    This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace,
    That inward breaks, and shows no cause without
    Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir.

Captain    God be wi' you, sir.

    [Exit]

ROSENCRANTZ    Wilt please you go, my lord?

HAMLET    I'll be with you straight go a little before.

    [Exeunt all except HAMLET]

    How all occasions do inform against me,
    And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,
    If his chief good and market of his time
    Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
    Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
    Looking before and after, gave us not
    That capability and god-like reason
    To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be
    Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
    Of thinking too precisely on the event,
    A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom
    And ever three parts coward, I do not know
    Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
    Sith I have cause and will and strength and means
    To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me:
    Witness this army of such mass and charge
    Led by a delicate and tender prince,
    Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd
    Makes mouths at the invisible event,
    Exposing what is mortal and unsure
    To all that fortune, death and danger dare,
    Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great
    Is not to stir without great argument,
    But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
    When honour's at the stake. How stand I then,
    That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd,
    Excitements of my reason and my blood,
    And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see
    The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
    That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,
    Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot
    Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,
    Which is not tomb enough and continent
    To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,
    My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

    [Exit]




    HAMLET


ACT IV


SCENE V    Elsinore. A room in the castle.


    [Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE, HORATIO, and a Gentleman]

QUEEN GERTRUDE    I will not speak with her.

Gentleman    She is importunate, indeed distract:
    Her mood will needs be pitied.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    What would she have?

Gentleman    She speaks much of her father; says she hears
    There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart;
    Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,
    That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing,
    Yet the unshaped use of it doth move
    The hearers to collection; they aim at it,
    And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts;
    Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures
    yield them,
    Indeed would make one think there might be thought,
    Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily.

HORATIO    'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew
    Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Let her come in.

    [Exit HORATIO]

    To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
    Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:
    So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
    It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

    [Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA]

OPHELIA    Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    How now, Ophelia!

OPHELIA    [Sings]

    How should I your true love know
    From another one?
    By his cockle hat and staff,
    And his sandal shoon.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

OPHELIA    Say you? nay, pray you, mark.

    [Sings]

    He is dead and gone, lady,
    He is dead and gone;
    At his head a grass-green turf,
    At his heels a stone.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Nay, but, Ophelia,--

OPHELIA    Pray you, mark.

    [Sings]

    White his shroud as the mountain snow,--

    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS]

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Alas, look here, my lord.

OPHELIA    [Sings]

    Larded with sweet flowers
    Which bewept to the grave did go
    With true-love showers.

KING CLAUDIUS    How do you, pretty lady?

OPHELIA    Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's
    daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not
    what we may be. God be at your table!

KING CLAUDIUS    Conceit upon her father.

OPHELIA    Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they
    ask you what it means, say you this:

    [Sings]

    To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
    All in the morning betime,
    And I a maid at your window,
    To be your Valentine.
    Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,
    And dupp'd the chamber-door;
    Let in the maid, that out a maid
    Never departed more.

KING CLAUDIUS    Pretty Ophelia!

OPHELIA    Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't:

    [Sings]

    By Gis and by Saint Charity,
    Alack, and fie for shame!
    Young men will do't, if they come to't;
    By cock, they are to blame.
    Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
    You promised me to wed.
    So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
    An thou hadst not come to my bed.

KING CLAUDIUS    How long hath she been thus?

OPHELIA    I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I
    cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him
    i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it:
    and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my
    coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies;
    good night, good night.

    [Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS    Follow her close; give her good watch,
    I pray you.

    [Exit HORATIO]

    O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs
    All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude,
    When sorrows come, they come not single spies
    But in battalions. First, her father slain:
    Next, your son gone; and he most violent author
    Of his own just remove: the people muddied,
    Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers,
    For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly,
    In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia
    Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
    Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts:
    Last, and as much containing as all these,
    Her brother is in secret come from France;
    Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
    And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
    With pestilent speeches of his father's death;
    Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd,
    Will nothing stick our person to arraign
    In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this,
    Like to a murdering-piece, in many places
    Gives me superfluous death.

    [A noise within]

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Alack, what noise is this?

KING CLAUDIUS    Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door.

    [Enter another Gentleman]

    What is the matter?

Gentleman    Save yourself, my lord:
    The ocean, overpeering of his list,
    Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste
    Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
    O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord;
    And, as the world were now but to begin,
    Antiquity forgot, custom not known,
    The ratifiers and props of every word,
    They cry 'Choose we: Laertes shall be king:'
    Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds:
    'Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!'

QUEEN GERTRUDE    How cheerfully on the false trail they cry!
    O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!

KING CLAUDIUS    The doors are broke.

    [Noise within]

    [Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following]

LAERTES    Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all without.

Danes    No, let's come in.

LAERTES                      I pray you, give me leave.

Danes    We will, we will.

    [They retire without the door]

LAERTES    I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king,
    Give me my father!

QUEEN GERTRUDE                      Calmly, good Laertes.

LAERTES    That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard,
    Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot
    Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow
    Of my true mother.

KING CLAUDIUS                      What is the cause, Laertes,
    That thy rebellion looks so giant-like?
    Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person:
    There's such divinity doth hedge a king,
    That treason can but peep to what it would,
    Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,
    Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude.
    Speak, man.

LAERTES    Where is my father?

KING CLAUDIUS    Dead.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    But not by him.

KING CLAUDIUS    Let him demand his fill.

LAERTES    How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:
    To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil!
    Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!
    I dare damnation. To this point I stand,
    That both the worlds I give to negligence,
    Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged
    Most thoroughly for my father.

KING CLAUDIUS    Who shall stay you?

LAERTES    My will, not all the world:
    And for my means, I'll husband them so well,
    They shall go far with little.

KING CLAUDIUS    Good Laertes,
    If you desire to know the certainty
    Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge,
    That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe,
    Winner and loser?

LAERTES    None but his enemies.

KING CLAUDIUS    Will you know them then?

LAERTES    To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms;
    And like the kind life-rendering pelican,
    Repast them with my blood.

KING CLAUDIUS    Why, now you speak
    Like a good child and a true gentleman.
    That I am guiltless of your father's death,
    And am most sensible in grief for it,
    It shall as level to your judgment pierce
    As day does to your eye.

Danes    [Within]                Let her come in.

LAERTES    How now! what noise is that?

    [Re-enter OPHELIA]

    O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,
    Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
    By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight,
    Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May!
    Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
    O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits
    Should be as moral as an old man's life?
    Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
    It sends some precious instance of itself
    After the thing it loves.

OPHELIA    [Sings]

    They bore him barefaced on the bier;
    Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
    And in his grave rain'd many a tear:--
    Fare you well, my dove!

LAERTES    Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge,
    It could not move thus.

OPHELIA    [Sings]

    You must sing a-down a-down,
    An you call him a-down-a.
    O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false
    steward, that stole his master's daughter.

LAERTES    This nothing's more than matter.

OPHELIA    There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
    love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.

LAERTES    A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted.

OPHELIA    There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
    for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
    herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
    a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
    some violets, but they withered all when my father
    died: they say he made a good end,--

    [Sings]

    For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

LAERTES    Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,
    She turns to favour and to prettiness.

OPHELIA    [Sings]

    And will he not come again?
    And will he not come again?
    No, no, he is dead:
    Go to thy death-bed:
    He never will come again.

    His beard was as white as snow,
    All flaxen was his poll:
    He is gone, he is gone,
    And we cast away moan:
    God ha' mercy on his soul!

    And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye.

    [Exit]

LAERTES    Do you see this, O God?

KING CLAUDIUS    Laertes, I must commune with your grief,
    Or you deny me right. Go but apart,
    Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will.
    And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me:
    If by direct or by collateral hand
    They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give,
    Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours,
    To you in satisfaction; but if not,
    Be you content to lend your patience to us,
    And we shall jointly labour with your soul
    To give it due content.

LAERTES    Let this be so;
    His means of death, his obscure funeral--
    No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones,
    No noble rite nor formal ostentation--
    Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
    That I must call't in question.

KING CLAUDIUS    So you shall;
    And where the offence is let the great axe fall.
    I pray you, go with me.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT IV



SCENE VI    Another room in the castle.


    [Enter HORATIO and a Servant]

HORATIO    What are they that would speak with me?

Servant    Sailors, sir: they say they have letters for you.

HORATIO    Let them come in.

    [Exit Servant]

    I do not know from what part of the world
    I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet.

    [Enter Sailors]

First Sailor    God bless you, sir.

HORATIO    Let him bless thee too.

First Sailor    He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for
    you, sir; it comes from the ambassador that was
    bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am
    let to know it is.

HORATIO    [Reads]  'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked
    this, give these fellows some means to the king:
    they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old
    at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us
    chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on
    a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded
    them: on the instant they got clear of our ship; so
    I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with
    me like thieves of mercy: but they knew what they
    did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king
    have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me
    with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I
    have words to speak in thine ear will make thee
    dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of
    the matter. These good fellows will bring thee
    where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their
    course for England: of them I have much to tell
    thee. Farewell.
    'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.'
    Come, I will make you way for these your letters;
    And do't the speedier, that you may direct me
    To him from whom you brought them.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT IV


SCENE VII    Another room in the castle.


    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS and LAERTES]

KING CLAUDIUS    Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal,
    And you must put me in your heart for friend,
    Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
    That he which hath your noble father slain
    Pursued my life.

LAERTES                      It well appears: but tell me
    Why you proceeded not against these feats,
    So crimeful and so capital in nature,
    As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
    You mainly were stirr'd up.

KING CLAUDIUS    O, for two special reasons;
    Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
    But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother
    Lives almost by his looks; and for myself--
    My virtue or my plague, be it either which--
    She's so conjunctive to my life and soul,
    That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
    I could not but by her. The other motive,
    Why to a public count I might not go,
    Is the great love the general gender bear him;
    Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
    Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
    Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows,
    Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
    Would have reverted to my bow again,
    And not where I had aim'd them.

LAERTES    And so have I a noble father lost;
    A sister driven into desperate terms,
    Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
    Stood challenger on mount of all the age
    For her perfections: but my revenge will come.

KING CLAUDIUS    Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think
    That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
    That we can let our beard be shook with danger
    And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more:
    I loved your father, and we love ourself;
    And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine--

    [Enter a Messenger]

    How now! what news?

Messenger    Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
    This to your majesty; this to the queen.

KING CLAUDIUS    From Hamlet! who brought them?

Messenger    Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not:
    They were given me by Claudio; he received them
    Of him that brought them.

KING CLAUDIUS    Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us.

    [Exit Messenger]

    [Reads]

    'High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on
    your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see
    your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your
    pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden
    and more strange return.                  'HAMLET.'
    What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
    Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?

LAERTES    Know you the hand?

KING CLAUDIUS    'Tis Hamlets character. 'Naked!
    And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.'
    Can you advise me?

LAERTES    I'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come;
    It warms the very sickness in my heart,
    That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
    'Thus didest thou.'

KING CLAUDIUS    If it be so, Laertes--
    As how should it be so? how otherwise?--
    Will you be ruled by me?

LAERTES    Ay, my lord;
    So you will not o'errule me to a peace.

KING CLAUDIUS    To thine own peace. If he be now return'd,
    As checking at his voyage, and that he means
    No more to undertake it, I will work him
    To an exploit, now ripe in my device,
    Under the which he shall not choose but fall:
    And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe,
    But even his mother shall uncharge the practise
    And call it accident.

LAERTES    My lord, I will be ruled;
    The rather, if you could devise it so
    That I might be the organ.

KING CLAUDIUS    It falls right.
    You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
    And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
    Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts
    Did not together pluck such envy from him
    As did that one, and that, in my regard,
    Of the unworthiest siege.

LAERTES    What part is that, my lord?

KING CLAUDIUS    A very riband in the cap of youth,
    Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes
    The light and careless livery that it wears
    Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
    Importing health and graveness. Two months since,
    Here was a gentleman of Normandy:--
    I've seen myself, and served against, the French,
    And they can well on horseback: but this gallant
    Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat;
    And to such wondrous doing brought his horse,
    As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured
    With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought,
    That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
    Come short of what he did.

LAERTES    A Norman was't?

KING CLAUDIUS    A Norman.

LAERTES    Upon my life, Lamond.

KING CLAUDIUS    The very same.

LAERTES    I know him well: he is the brooch indeed
    And gem of all the nation.

KING CLAUDIUS    He made confession of you,
    And gave you such a masterly report
    For art and exercise in your defence
    And for your rapier most especially,
    That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed,
    If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation,
    He swore, had had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
    If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his
    Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
    That he could nothing do but wish and beg
    Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him.
    Now, out of this,--

LAERTES    What out of this, my lord?

KING CLAUDIUS    Laertes, was your father dear to you?
    Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
    A face without a heart?

LAERTES    Why ask you this?

KING CLAUDIUS    Not that I think you did not love your father;
    But that I know love is begun by time;
    And that I see, in passages of proof,
    Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
    There lives within the very flame of love
    A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
    And nothing is at a like goodness still;
    For goodness, growing to a plurisy,
    Dies in his own too much: that we would do
    We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes
    And hath abatements and delays as many
    As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
    And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
    That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:--
    Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake,
    To show yourself your father's son in deed
    More than in words?

LAERTES    To cut his throat i' the church.

KING CLAUDIUS    No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
    Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes,
    Will you do this, keep close within your chamber.
    Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home:
    We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
    And set a double varnish on the fame
    The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together
    And wager on your heads: he, being remiss,
    Most generous and free from all contriving,
    Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease,
    Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
    A sword unbated, and in a pass of practise
    Requite him for your father.

LAERTES    I will do't:
    And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword.
    I bought an unction of a mountebank,
    So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
    Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
    Collected from all simples that have virtue
    Under the moon, can save the thing from death
    That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point
    With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
    It may be death.

KING CLAUDIUS                      Let's further think of this;
    Weigh what convenience both of time and means
    May fit us to our shape: if this should fail,
    And that our drift look through our bad performance,
    'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project
    Should have a back or second, that might hold,
    If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me see:
    We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings: I ha't.
    When in your motion you are hot and dry--
    As make your bouts more violent to that end--
    And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him
    A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping,
    If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
    Our purpose may hold there.

    [Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE]

              How now, sweet queen!

QUEEN GERTRUDE    One woe doth tread upon another's heel,
    So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes.

LAERTES    Drown'd! O, where?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
    That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
    There with fantastic garlands did she come
    Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
    That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
    But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
    There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
    Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
    When down her weedy trophies and herself
    Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
    And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
    Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
    As one incapable of her own distress,
    Or like a creature native and indued
    Unto that element: but long it could not be
    Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
    Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
    To muddy death.

LAERTES                      Alas, then, she is drown'd?

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Drown'd, drown'd.

LAERTES    Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia,
    And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet
    It is our trick; nature her custom holds,
    Let shame say what it will: when these are gone,
    The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord:
    I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze,
    But that this folly douts it.

    [Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS    Let's follow, Gertrude:
    How much I had to do to calm his rage!
    Now fear I this will give it start again;
    Therefore let's follow.

    [Exeunt]




    HAMLET


ACT V



SCENE I    A churchyard.


    [Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c]

First Clown    Is she to be buried in Christian burial that
    wilfully seeks her own salvation?

Second Clown    I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave
    straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it
    Christian burial.

First Clown    How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her
    own defence?

Second Clown    Why, 'tis found so.

First Clown    It must be 'se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For
    here lies the point:  if I drown myself wittingly,
    it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it
    is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned
    herself wittingly.

Second Clown    Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,--

First Clown    Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here
    stands the man; good; if the man go to this water,
    and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he
    goes,--mark you that; but if the water come to him
    and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he
    that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life.

Second Clown    But is this law?

First Clown    Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law.

Second Clown    Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been
    a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o'
    Christian burial.

First Clown    Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that
    great folk should have countenance in this world to
    drown or hang themselves, more than their even
    Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient
    gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers:
    they hold up Adam's profession.

Second Clown    Was he a gentleman?

First Clown    He was the first that ever bore arms.

Second Clown    Why, he had none.

First Clown    What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the
    Scripture? The Scripture says 'Adam digged:'
    could he dig without arms? I'll put another
    question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the
    purpose, confess thyself--

Second Clown    Go to.

First Clown    What is he that builds stronger than either the
    mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?

Second Clown    The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a
    thousand tenants.

First Clown    I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows
    does well; but how does it well? it does well to
    those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the
    gallows is built stronger than the church: argal,
    the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come.

Second Clown    'Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or
    a carpenter?'

First Clown    Ay, tell me that, and unyoke.

Second Clown    Marry, now I can tell.

First Clown    To't.

Second Clown    Mass, I cannot tell.

    [Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance]

First Clown    Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull
    ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when
    you are asked this question next, say 'a
    grave-maker: 'the houses that he makes last till
    doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a
    stoup of liquor.

    [Exit Second Clown]

    [He digs and sings]

    In youth, when I did love, did love,
    Methought it was very sweet,
    To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove,
    O, methought, there was nothing meet.

HAMLET    Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he
    sings at grave-making?

HORATIO    Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.

HAMLET    'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath
    the daintier sense.

First Clown    [Sings]

    But age, with his stealing steps,
    Hath claw'd me in his clutch,
    And hath shipped me intil the land,
    As if I had never been such.

    [Throws up a skull]

HAMLET    That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once:
    how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were
    Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It
    might be the pate of a politician, which this ass
    now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God,
    might it not?

HORATIO    It might, my lord.

HAMLET    Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow,
    sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might
    be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord
    such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not?

HORATIO    Ay, my lord.

HAMLET    Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and
    knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade:
    here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to
    see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding,
    but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't.

First Clown: [Sings]

    A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,
    For and a shrouding sheet:
    O, a pit of clay for to be made
    For such a guest is meet.

    [Throws up another skull]

HAMLET    There's another: why may not that be the skull of a
    lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,
    his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he
    suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the
    sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of
    his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be
    in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,
    his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,
    his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and
    the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine
    pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him
    no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than
    the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The
    very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in
    this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?

HORATIO    Not a jot more, my lord.

HAMLET    Is not parchment made of sheepskins?

HORATIO    Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too.

HAMLET    They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance
    in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose
    grave's this, sirrah?

First Clown    Mine, sir.

    [Sings]

    O, a pit of clay for to be made
    For such a guest is meet.

HAMLET    I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't.

First Clown    You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not
    yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine.

HAMLET    'Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine:
    'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest.

First Clown    'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to
    you.

HAMLET    What man dost thou dig it for?

First Clown    For no man, sir.

HAMLET    What woman, then?

First Clown    For none, neither.

HAMLET    Who is to be buried in't?

First Clown    One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

HAMLET    How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the
    card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord,
    Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of
    it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the
    peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he
    gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a
    grave-maker?

First Clown    Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day
    that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras.

HAMLET    How long is that since?

First Clown    Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it
    was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that
    is mad, and sent into England.

HAMLET    Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?

First Clown    Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits
    there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.

HAMLET    Why?

First Clown    'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men
    are as mad as he.

HAMLET    How came he mad?

First Clown    Very strangely, they say.

HAMLET    How strangely?

First Clown    Faith, e'en with losing his wits.

HAMLET    Upon what ground?

First Clown    Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man
    and boy, thirty years.

HAMLET    How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot?

First Clown    I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we
    have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce
    hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year
    or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

HAMLET    Why he more than another?

First Clown    Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that
    he will keep out water a great while; and your water
    is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body.
    Here's a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth
    three and twenty years.

HAMLET    Whose was it?

First Clown    A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was?

HAMLET    Nay, I know not.

First Clown    A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a
    flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull,
    sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester.

HAMLET    This?

First Clown    E'en that.

HAMLET    Let me see.

    [Takes the skull]

    Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
    of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
    borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
    abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
    it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
    not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
    gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
    that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
    now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
    Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
    her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
    come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell
    me one thing.

HORATIO    What's that, my lord?

HAMLET    Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'
    the earth?

HORATIO    E'en so.

HAMLET    And smelt so? pah!

    [Puts down the skull]

HORATIO    E'en so, my lord.

HAMLET    To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may
    not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander,
    till he find it stopping a bung-hole?

HORATIO    'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.

HAMLET    No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
    modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as
    thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried,
    Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of
    earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he
    was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
    Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
    Might stop a hole to keep the wind away:
    O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
    Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!
    But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king.

    [Enter Priest, &c. in procession; the Corpse of
    OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING
    CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, their trains, &c]

    The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow?
    And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken
    The corse they follow did with desperate hand
    Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate.
    Couch we awhile, and mark.

    [Retiring with HORATIO]

LAERTES    What ceremony else?

HAMLET    That is Laertes,
    A very noble youth: mark.

LAERTES    What ceremony else?

First Priest    Her obsequies have been as far enlarged
    As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful;
    And, but that great command o'ersways the order,
    She should in ground unsanctified have lodged
    Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers,
    Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her;
    Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants,
    Her maiden strewments and the bringing home
    Of bell and burial.

LAERTES    Must there no more be done?

First Priest    No more be done:
    We should profane the service of the dead
    To sing a requiem and such rest to her
    As to peace-parted souls.

LAERTES    Lay her i' the earth:
    And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
    May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
    A ministering angel shall my sister be,
    When thou liest howling.

HAMLET    What, the fair Ophelia!

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Sweets to the sweet: farewell!

    [Scattering flowers]

    I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife;
    I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
    And not have strew'd thy grave.

LAERTES    O, treble woe
    Fall ten times treble on that cursed head,
    Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense
    Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile,
    Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:

    [Leaps into the grave]

    Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,
    Till of this flat a mountain you have made,
    To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
    Of blue Olympus.

HAMLET    [Advancing]     What is he whose grief
    Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
    Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
    Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
    Hamlet the Dane.

    [Leaps into the grave]

LAERTES                      The devil take thy soul!

    [Grappling with him]

HAMLET    Thou pray'st not well.
    I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
    For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
    Yet have I something in me dangerous,
    Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.

KING CLAUDIUS    Pluck them asunder.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Hamlet, Hamlet!

All    Gentlemen,--

HORATIO                      Good my lord, be quiet.

    [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave]

HAMLET    Why I will fight with him upon this theme
    Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    O my son, what theme?

HAMLET    I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
    Could not, with all their quantity of love,
    Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

KING CLAUDIUS    O, he is mad, Laertes.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    For love of God, forbear him.

HAMLET    'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
    Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
    Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
    I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
    To outface me with leaping in her grave?
    Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
    And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
    Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
    Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
    Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
    I'll rant as well as thou.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    This is mere madness:
    And thus awhile the fit will work on him;
    Anon, as patient as the female dove,
    When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
    His silence will sit drooping.

HAMLET    Hear you, sir;
    What is the reason that you use me thus?
    I loved you ever: but it is no matter;
    Let Hercules himself do what he may,
    The cat will mew and dog will have his day.

    [Exit]

KING CLAUDIUS    I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him.

    [Exit HORATIO]

    [To LAERTES]

    Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech;
    We'll put the matter to the present push.
    Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son.
    This grave shall have a living monument:
    An hour of quiet shortly shall we see;
    Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

    [Exeunt]



    HAMLET


ACT V



SCENE II    A hall in the castle.


    [Enter HAMLET and HORATIO]

HAMLET    So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other;
    You do remember all the circumstance?

HORATIO    Remember it, my lord?

HAMLET    Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting,
    That would not let me sleep: methought I lay
    Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly,
    And praised be rashness for it, let us know,
    Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,
    When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us
    There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
    Rough-hew them how we will,--

HORATIO    That is most certain.

HAMLET    Up from my cabin,
    My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark
    Groped I to find out them; had my desire.
    Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew
    To mine own room again; making so bold,
    My fears forgetting manners, to unseal
    Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,--
    O royal knavery!--an exact command,
    Larded with many several sorts of reasons
    Importing Denmark's health and England's too,
    With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life,
    That, on the supervise, no leisure bated,
    No, not to stay the grinding of the axe,
    My head should be struck off.

HORATIO    Is't possible?

HAMLET    Here's the commission: read it at more leisure.
    But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed?

HORATIO    I beseech you.

HAMLET    Being thus be-netted round with villanies,--
    Ere I could make a prologue to my brains,
    They had begun the play--I sat me down,
    Devised a new commission, wrote it fair:
    I once did hold it, as our statists do,
    A baseness to write fair and labour'd much
    How to forget that learning, but, sir, now
    It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know
    The effect of what I wrote?

HORATIO    Ay, good my lord.

HAMLET    An earnest conjuration from the king,
    As England was his faithful tributary,
    As love between them like the palm might flourish,
    As peace should stiff her wheaten garland wear
    And stand a comma 'tween their amities,
    And many such-like 'As'es of great charge,
    That, on the view and knowing of these contents,
    Without debatement further, more or less,
    He should the bearers put to sudden death,
    Not shriving-time allow'd.

HORATIO    How was this seal'd?

HAMLET    Why, even in that was heaven ordinant.
    I had my father's signet in my purse,
    Which was the model of that Danish seal;
    Folded the writ up in form of the other,
    Subscribed it, gave't the impression, placed it safely,
    The changeling never known. Now, the next day
    Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent
    Thou know'st already.

HORATIO    So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't.

HAMLET    Why, man, they did make love to this employment;
    They are not near my conscience; their defeat
    Does by their own insinuation grow:
    'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
    Between the pass and fell incensed points
    Of mighty opposites.

HORATIO    Why, what a king is this!

HAMLET    Does it not, think'st thee, stand me now upon--
    He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother,
    Popp'd in between the election and my hopes,
    Thrown out his angle for my proper life,
    And with such cozenage--is't not perfect conscience,
    To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd,
    To let this canker of our nature come
    In further evil?

HORATIO    It must be shortly known to him from England
    What is the issue of the business there.

HAMLET    It will be short: the interim is mine;
    And a man's life's no more than to say 'One.'
    But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
    That to Laertes I forgot myself;
    For, by the image of my cause, I see
    The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours.
    But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
    Into a towering passion.

HORATIO    Peace! who comes here?

    [Enter OSRIC]

OSRIC    Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark.

HAMLET    I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly?

HORATIO    No, my good lord.

HAMLET    Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to
    know him. He hath much land, and fertile: let a
    beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at
    the king's mess: 'tis a chough; but, as I say,
    spacious in the possession of dirt.

OSRIC    Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I
    should impart a thing to you from his majesty.

HAMLET    I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of
    spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head.

OSRIC    I thank your lordship, it is very hot.

HAMLET    No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is
    northerly.

OSRIC    It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed.

HAMLET    But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my
    complexion.

OSRIC    Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as
    'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his
    majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a
    great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,--

HAMLET    I beseech you, remember--

    [HAMLET moves him to put on his hat]

OSRIC    Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith.
    Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe
    me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent
    differences, of very soft society and great showing:
    indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or
    calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the
    continent of what part a gentleman would see.

HAMLET    Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you;
    though, I know, to divide him inventorially would
    dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw
    neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the
    verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of
    great article; and his infusion of such dearth and
    rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his
    semblable is his mirror; and who else would trace
    him, his umbrage, nothing more.

OSRIC    Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him.

HAMLET    The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman
    in our more rawer breath?

OSRIC    Sir?

HORATIO    Is't not possible to understand in another tongue?
    You will do't, sir, really.

HAMLET    What imports the nomination of this gentleman?

OSRIC    Of Laertes?

HORATIO    His purse is empty already; all's golden words are spent.

HAMLET    Of him, sir.

OSRIC    I know you are not ignorant--

HAMLET    I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did,
    it would not much approve me. Well, sir?

OSRIC    You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is--

HAMLET    I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with
    him in excellence; but, to know a man well, were to
    know himself.

OSRIC    I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation
    laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed.

HAMLET    What's his weapon?

OSRIC    Rapier and dagger.

HAMLET    That's two of his weapons: but, well.

OSRIC    The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary
    horses: against the which he has imponed, as I take
    it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their
    assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so: three of the
    carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very
    responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages,
    and of very liberal conceit.

HAMLET    What call you the carriages?

HORATIO    I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done.

OSRIC    The carriages, sir, are the hangers.

HAMLET    The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we
    could carry cannon by our sides: I would it might
    be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses
    against six French swords, their assigns, and three
    liberal-conceited carriages; that's the French bet
    against the Danish. Why is this 'imponed,' as you call it?

OSRIC    The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes
    between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you
    three hits: he hath laid on twelve for nine; and it
    would come to immediate trial, if your lordship
    would vouchsafe the answer.

HAMLET    How if I answer 'no'?

OSRIC    I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial.

HAMLET    Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it please his
    majesty, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let
    the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the
    king hold his purpose, I will win for him an I can;
    if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits.

OSRIC    Shall I re-deliver you e'en so?

HAMLET    To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will.

OSRIC    I commend my duty to your lordship.

HAMLET    Yours, yours.

    [Exit OSRIC]

    He does well to commend it himself; there are no
    tongues else for's turn.

HORATIO    This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head.

HAMLET    He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it.
    Thus has he--and many more of the same bevy that I
    know the dressy age dotes on--only got the tune of
    the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of
    yesty collection, which carries them through and
    through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do
    but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out.

    [Enter a Lord]

Lord    My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young
    Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in
    the hall: he sends to know if your pleasure hold to
    play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time.

HAMLET    I am constant to my purpose; they follow the king's
    pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now
    or whensoever, provided I be so able as now.

Lord    The king and queen and all are coming down.

HAMLET    In happy time.

Lord    The queen desires you to use some gentle
    entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play.

HAMLET    She well instructs me.

    [Exit Lord]

HORATIO    You will lose this wager, my lord.

HAMLET    I do not think so: since he went into France, I
    have been in continual practise: I shall win at the
    odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here
    about my heart: but it is no matter.

HORATIO    Nay, good my lord,--

HAMLET    It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
    gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman.

HORATIO    If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will
    forestall their repair hither, and say you are not
    fit.

HAMLET    Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special
    providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now,
    'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be
    now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the
    readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he
    leaves, what is't to leave betimes?

    [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, LAERTES,
    Lords, OSRIC, and Attendants with foils, &c]

KING CLAUDIUS    Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me.

    [KING CLAUDIUS puts LAERTES' hand into HAMLET's]

HAMLET    Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong;
    But pardon't, as you are a gentleman.
    This presence knows,
    And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd
    With sore distraction. What I have done,
    That might your nature, honour and exception
    Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness.
    Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet:
    If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
    And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
    Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
    Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so,
    Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
    His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
    Sir, in this audience,
    Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil
    Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
    That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,
    And hurt my brother.

LAERTES    I am satisfied in nature,
    Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most
    To my revenge: but in my terms of honour
    I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement,
    Till by some elder masters, of known honour,
    I have a voice and precedent of peace,
    To keep my name ungored. But till that time,
    I do receive your offer'd love like love,
    And will not wrong it.

HAMLET    I embrace it freely;
    And will this brother's wager frankly play.
    Give us the foils. Come on.

LAERTES    Come, one for me.

HAMLET    I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance
    Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night,
    Stick fiery off indeed.

LAERTES    You mock me, sir.

HAMLET    No, by this hand.

KING CLAUDIUS    Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet,
    You know the wager?

HAMLET    Very well, my lord
    Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side.

KING CLAUDIUS    I do not fear it; I have seen you both:
    But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds.

LAERTES    This is too heavy, let me see another.

HAMLET    This likes me well. These foils have all a length?

    [They prepare to play]

OSRIC    Ay, my good lord.

KING CLAUDIUS    Set me the stoops of wine upon that table.
    If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
    Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
    Let all the battlements their ordnance fire:
    The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath;
    And in the cup an union shall he throw,
    Richer than that which four successive kings
    In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups;
    And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
    The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
    The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth,
    'Now the king dunks to Hamlet.' Come, begin:
    And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.

HAMLET    Come on, sir.

LAERTES                      Come, my lord.

    [They play]

HAMLET    One.

LAERTES    No.

HAMLET    Judgment.

OSRIC    A hit, a very palpable hit.

LAERTES    Well; again.

KING CLAUDIUS    Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine;
    Here's to thy health.

    [Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off within]

        Give him the cup.

HAMLET    I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. Come.

    [They play]

    Another hit; what say you?

LAERTES    A touch, a touch, I do confess.

KING CLAUDIUS    Our son shall win.

QUEEN GERTRUDE                      He's fat, and scant of breath.
    Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows;
    The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.

HAMLET    Good madam!

KING CLAUDIUS              Gertrude, do not drink.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me.

KING CLAUDIUS    [Aside]  It is the poison'd cup: it is too late.

HAMLET    I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    Come, let me wipe thy face.

LAERTES    My lord, I'll hit him now.

KING CLAUDIUS    I do not think't.

LAERTES    [Aside]  And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience.

HAMLET    Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally;
    I pray you, pass with your best violence;
    I am afeard you make a wanton of me.

LAERTES    Say you so? come on.

    [They play]

OSRIC    Nothing, neither way.

LAERTES    Have at you now!

    [LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they
    change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES]

KING CLAUDIUS    Part them; they are incensed.

HAMLET    Nay, come, again.

    [QUEEN GERTRUDE falls]

OSRIC                      Look to the queen there, ho!

HORATIO    They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?

OSRIC    How is't, Laertes?

LAERTES    Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;
    I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.

HAMLET    How does the queen?

KING CLAUDIUS    She swounds to see them bleed.

QUEEN GERTRUDE    No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,--
    The drink, the drink! I am poison'd.

    [Dies]

HAMLET    O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd:
    Treachery! Seek it out.

LAERTES    It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;
    No medicine in the world can do thee good;
    In thee there is not half an hour of life;
    The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
    Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practise
    Hath turn'd itself on me lo, here I lie,
    Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd:
    I can no more: the king, the king's to blame.

HAMLET    The point!--envenom'd too!
    Then, venom, to thy work.

    [Stabs KING CLAUDIUS]

All    Treason! treason!

KING CLAUDIUS    O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt.

HAMLET    Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,
    Drink off this potion. Is thy union here?
    Follow my mother.

    [KING CLAUDIUS dies]

LAERTES                      He is justly served;
    It is a poison temper'd by himself.
    Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet:
    Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
    Nor thine on me.

    [Dies]

HAMLET    Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.
    I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu!
    You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
    That are but mutes or audience to this act,
    Had I but time--as this fell sergeant, death,
    Is strict in his arrest--O, I could tell you--
    But let it be. Horatio, I am dead;
    Thou livest; report me and my cause aright
    To the unsatisfied.

HORATIO    Never believe it:
    I am more an antique Roman than a Dane:
    Here's yet some liquor left.

HAMLET    As thou'rt a man,
    Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't.
    O good Horatio, what a wounded name,
    Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!
    If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart
    Absent thee from felicity awhile,
    And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
    To tell my story.

    [March afar off, and shot within]

    What warlike noise is this?

OSRIC    Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,
    To the ambassadors of England gives
    This warlike volley.

HAMLET    O, I die, Horatio;
    The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit:
    I cannot live to hear the news from England;
    But I do prophesy the election lights
    On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
    So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
    Which have solicited. The rest is silence.

    [Dies]

HORATIO    Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
    And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
    Why does the drum come hither?

    [March within]

    [Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors,
    and others]

PRINCE FORTINBRAS    Where is this sight?

HORATIO    What is it ye would see?
    If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS    This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death,
    What feast is toward in thine eternal cell,
    That thou so many princes at a shot
    So bloodily hast struck?

First Ambassador    The sight is dismal;
    And our affairs from England come too late:
    The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,
    To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd,
    That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead:
    Where should we have our thanks?

HORATIO    Not from his mouth,
    Had it the ability of life to thank you:
    He never gave commandment for their death.
    But since, so jump upon this bloody question,
    You from the Polack wars, and you from England,
    Are here arrived give order that these bodies
    High on a stage be placed to the view;
    And let me speak to the yet unknowing world
    How these things came about: so shall you hear
    Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
    Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters,
    Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause,
    And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
    Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I
    Truly deliver.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS                      Let us haste to hear it,
    And call the noblest to the audience.
    For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune:
    I have some rights of memory in this kingdom,
    Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me.

HORATIO    Of that I shall have also cause to speak,
    And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more;
    But let this same be presently perform'd,
    Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance
    On plots and errors, happen.

PRINCE FORTINBRAS    Let four captains
    Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
    For he was likely, had he been put on,
    To have proved most royally: and, for his passage,
    The soldiers' music and the rites of war
    Speak loudly for him.
    Take up the bodies: such a sight as this
    Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
    Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

    [A dead march. Exeunt, bearing off the dead
    bodies; after which a peal of ordnance is shot off]




    OTHELLO


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


DUKE OF VENICE:

BRABANTIO    a senator.

    Other Senators.
    (Senator:)
    (First Senator:)
    (Second Senator:)

GRATIANO    brother to Brabantio.

LODOVICO    kinsman to Brabantio.

OTHELLO    a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state.

CASSIO    his lieutenant.

IAGO    his ancient.

RODERIGO    a Venetian gentleman.

MONTANO    Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus.

    Clown, servant to Othello. (Clown:)

DESDEMONA    daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello.

EMILIA    wife to Iago.

BIANCA    mistress to Cassio.

    Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen,
    Musicians, and Attendants.
    (Sailor:)
    (First Officer:)
    (Messenger:)
    (Gentleman:)
    (First Gentleman:)
    (Second Gentleman:)
    (Third Gentleman:)
    (First Musician:)


SCENE    Venice: a Sea-port in Cyprus.




    OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE I    Venice. A street.


    [Enter RODERIGO and IAGO]

RODERIGO    Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly
    That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse
    As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.

IAGO    'Sblood, but you will not hear me:
    If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.

RODERIGO    Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate.

IAGO    Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
    In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
    Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man,
    I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
    But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,
    Evades them, with a bombast circumstance
    Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
    And, in conclusion,
    Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he,
    'I have already chose my officer.'
    And what was he?
    Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
    One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
    A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
    That never set a squadron in the field,
    Nor the division of a battle knows
    More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
    Wherein the toged consuls can propose
    As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,
    Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
    And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof
    At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds
    Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd
    By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster,
    He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
    And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient.

RODERIGO    By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.

IAGO    Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,
    Preferment goes by letter and affection,
    And not by old gradation, where each second
    Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself,
    Whether I in any just term am affined
    To love the Moor.

RODERIGO    I would not follow him then.

IAGO    O, sir, content you;
    I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
    We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
    Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
    Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
    That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
    Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
    For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd:
    Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are
    Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
    Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,
    And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
    Do well thrive by them and when they have lined
    their coats
    Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;
    And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir,
    It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
    Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
    In following him, I follow but myself;
    Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
    But seeming so, for my peculiar end:
    For when my outward action doth demonstrate
    The native act and figure of my heart
    In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
    But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
    For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

RODERIGO    What a full fortune does the thicklips owe
    If he can carry't thus!

IAGO    Call up her father,
    Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,
    Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,
    And, though he in a fertile climate dwell,
    Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,
    Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,
    As it may lose some colour.

RODERIGO    Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud.

IAGO    Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell
    As when, by night and negligence, the fire
    Is spied in populous cities.

RODERIGO    What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho!

IAGO    Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves!
    Look to your house, your daughter and your bags!
    Thieves! thieves!

    [BRABANTIO appears above, at a window]

BRABANTIO    What is the reason of this terrible summons?
    What is the matter there?

RODERIGO    Signior, is all your family within?

IAGO    Are your doors lock'd?

BRABANTIO    Why, wherefore ask you this?

IAGO    'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on
    your gown;
    Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;
    Even now, now, very now, an old black ram
    Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise;
    Awake the snorting citizens with the bell,
    Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you:
    Arise, I say.

BRABANTIO                      What, have you lost your wits?

RODERIGO    Most reverend signior, do you know my voice?

BRABANTIO    Not I    what are you?

RODERIGO    My name is Roderigo.

BRABANTIO    The worser welcome:
    I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors:
    In honest plainness thou hast heard me say
    My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness,
    Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
    Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
    To start my quiet.

RODERIGO    Sir, sir, sir,--

BRABANTIO                      But thou must needs be sure
    My spirit and my place have in them power
    To make this bitter to thee.

RODERIGO    Patience, good sir.

BRABANTIO    What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;
    My house is not a grange.

RODERIGO    Most grave Brabantio,
    In simple and pure soul I come to you.

IAGO    'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not
    serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to
    do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll
    have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse;
    you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have
    coursers for cousins and gennets for germans.

BRABANTIO    What profane wretch art thou?

IAGO    I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter
    and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

BRABANTIO    Thou art a villain.

IAGO    You are--a senator.

BRABANTIO    This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.

RODERIGO    Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you,
    If't be your pleasure and most wise consent,
    As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter,
    At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night,
    Transported, with no worse nor better guard
    But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier,
    To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor--
    If this be known to you and your allowance,
    We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;
    But if you know not this, my manners tell me
    We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe
    That, from the sense of all civility,
    I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:
    Your daughter, if you have not given her leave,
    I say again, hath made a gross revolt;
    Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes
    In an extravagant and wheeling stranger
    Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself:
    If she be in her chamber or your house,
    Let loose on me the justice of the state
    For thus deluding you.

BRABANTIO    Strike on the tinder, ho!
    Give me a taper! call up all my people!
    This accident is not unlike my dream:
    Belief of it oppresses me already.
    Light, I say! light!

    [Exit above]

IAGO    Farewell; for I must leave you:
    It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place,
    To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall--
    Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state,
    However this may gall him with some cheque,
    Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd
    With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars,
    Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls,
    Another of his fathom they have none,
    To lead their business: in which regard,
    Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains.
    Yet, for necessity of present life,
    I must show out a flag and sign of love,
    Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him,
    Lead to the Sagittary the raised search;
    And there will I be with him. So, farewell.

    [Exit]

    [Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches]

BRABANTIO    It is too true an evil: gone she is;
    And what's to come of my despised time
    Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo,
    Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl!
    With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father!
    How didst thou know 'twas she? O she deceives me
    Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers:
    Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you?

RODERIGO    Truly, I think they are.

BRABANTIO    O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood!
    Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds
    By what you see them act. Is there not charms
    By which the property of youth and maidhood
    May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo,
    Of some such thing?

RODERIGO    Yes, sir, I have indeed.

BRABANTIO    Call up my brother. O, would you had had her!
    Some one way, some another. Do you know
    Where we may apprehend her and the Moor?

RODERIGO    I think I can discover him, if you please,
    To get good guard and go along with me.

BRABANTIO    Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call;
    I may command at most. Get weapons, ho!
    And raise some special officers of night.
    On, good Roderigo: I'll deserve your pains.

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE II    Another street.


    [Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants with torches]

IAGO    Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
    Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience
    To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity
    Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times
    I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs.

OTHELLO    'Tis better as it is.

IAGO    Nay, but he prated,

    And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
    Against your honour
    That, with the little godliness I have,
    I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir,
    Are you fast married? Be assured of this,
    That the magnifico is much beloved,
    And hath in his effect a voice potential
    As double as the duke's: he will divorce you;
    Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
    The law, with all his might to enforce it on,
    Will give him cable.

OTHELLO    Let him do his spite:
    My services which I have done the signiory
    Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,--
    Which, when I know that boasting is an honour,
    I shall promulgate--I fetch my life and being
    From men of royal siege, and my demerits
    May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune
    As this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago,
    But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
    I would not my unhoused free condition
    Put into circumscription and confine
    For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yond?

IAGO    Those are the raised father and his friends:
    You were best go in.

OTHELLO    Not I    I must be found:
    My parts, my title and my perfect soul
    Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

IAGO    By Janus, I think no.

    [Enter CASSIO, and certain Officers with torches]

OTHELLO    The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant.
    The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
    What is the news?

CASSIO                      The duke does greet you, general,
    And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
    Even on the instant.

OTHELLO    What is the matter, think you?

CASSIO    Something from Cyprus as I may divine:
    It is a business of some heat: the galleys
    Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
    This very night at one another's heels,
    And many of the consuls, raised and met,
    Are at the duke's already: you have been
    hotly call'd for;
    When, being not at your lodging to be found,
    The senate hath sent about three several guests
    To search you out.

OTHELLO    'Tis well I am found by you.
    I will but spend a word here in the house,
    And go with you.

    [Exit]

CASSIO                      Ancient, what makes he here?

IAGO    'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack:
    If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.

CASSIO    I do not understand.

IAGO    He's married.

CASSIO    To who?

    [Re-enter OTHELLO]

IAGO    Marry, to--Come, captain, will you go?

OTHELLO    Have with you.

CASSIO    Here comes another troop to seek for you.

IAGO    It is Brabantio. General, be advised;
    He comes to bad intent.

    [Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with
    torches and weapons]

OTHELLO    Holla! stand there!

RODERIGO    Signior, it is the Moor.

BRABANTIO    Down with him, thief!

    [They draw on both sides]

IAGO    You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you.

OTHELLO    Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
    Good signior, you shall more command with years
    Than with your weapons.

BRABANTIO    O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter?
    Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her;
    For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
    If she in chains of magic were not bound,
    Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy,
    So opposite to marriage that she shunned
    The wealthy curled darlings of our nation,
    Would ever have, to incur a general mock,
    Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom
    Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight.
    Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense
    That thou hast practised on her with foul charms,
    Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
    That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on;
    'Tis probable and palpable to thinking.
    I therefore apprehend and do attach thee
    For an abuser of the world, a practiser
    Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.
    Lay hold upon him: if he do resist,
    Subdue him at his peril.

OTHELLO    Hold your hands,
    Both you of my inclining, and the rest:
    Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
    Without a prompter. Where will you that I go
    To answer this your charge?

BRABANTIO    To prison, till fit time
    Of law and course of direct session
    Call thee to answer.

OTHELLO    What if I do obey?
    How may the duke be therewith satisfied,
    Whose messengers are here about my side,
    Upon some present business of the state
    To bring me to him?

First Officer    'Tis true, most worthy signior;
    The duke's in council and your noble self,
    I am sure, is sent for.

BRABANTIO    How! the duke in council!
    In this time of the night! Bring him away:
    Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself,
    Or any of my brothers of the state,
    Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own;
    For if such actions may have passage free,
    Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT I



SCENE III    A council-chamber.


    [The DUKE and Senators sitting at a table; Officers
    attending]

DUKE OF VENICE    There is no composition in these news
    That gives them credit.

First Senator    Indeed, they are disproportion'd;
    My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.

DUKE OF VENICE    And mine, a hundred and forty.

Second Senator    And mine, two hundred:
    But though they jump not on a just account,--
    As in these cases, where the aim reports,
    'Tis oft with difference--yet do they all confirm
    A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

DUKE OF VENICE    Nay, it is possible enough to judgment:
    I do not so secure me in the error,
    But the main article I do approve
    In fearful sense.

Sailor    [Within]  What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!

First Officer    A messenger from the galleys.

    [Enter a Sailor]

DUKE OF VENICE    Now, what's the business?

Sailor    The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
    So was I bid report here to the state
    By Signior Angelo.

DUKE OF VENICE    How say you by this change?

First Senator    This cannot be,
    By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant,
    To keep us in false gaze. When we consider
    The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk,
    And let ourselves again but understand,
    That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
    So may he with more facile question bear it,
    For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
    But altogether lacks the abilities
    That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought of this,
    We must not think the Turk is so unskilful
    To leave that latest which concerns him first,
    Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,
    To wake and wage a danger profitless.

DUKE OF VENICE    Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.

First Officer    Here is more news.

    [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger    The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
    Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes,
    Have there injointed them with an after fleet.

First Senator    Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?

Messenger    Of thirty sail: and now they do restem
    Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
    Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
    Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
    With his free duty recommends you thus,
    And prays you to believe him.

DUKE OF VENICE    'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.
    Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?

First Senator    He's now in Florence.

DUKE OF VENICE    Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch.

First Senator    Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

    [Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers]

DUKE OF VENICE    Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
    Against the general enemy Ottoman.

    [To BRABANTIO]

    I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;
    We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight.

BRABANTIO    So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me;
    Neither my place nor aught I heard of business
    Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care
    Take hold on me, for my particular grief
    Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature
    That it engluts and swallows other sorrows
    And it is still itself.

DUKE OF VENICE    Why, what's the matter?

BRABANTIO    My daughter! O, my daughter!


DUKE OF VENICE    |    Dead?
Senator    |


BRABANTIO    Ay, to me;
    She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted
    By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;
    For nature so preposterously to err,
    Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
    Sans witchcraft could not.

DUKE OF VENICE    Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding
    Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself
    And you of her, the bloody book of law
    You shall yourself read in the bitter letter
    After your own sense, yea, though our proper son
    Stood in your action.

BRABANTIO    Humbly I thank your grace.
    Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,
    Your special mandate for the state-affairs
    Hath hither brought.


DUKE OF VENICE    |
    |                 We are very sorry for't.
Senator    |


DUKE OF VENICE    [To OTHELLO]  What, in your own part, can you say to this?

BRABANTIO    Nothing, but this is so.

OTHELLO    Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
    My very noble and approved good masters,
    That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
    It is most true; true, I have married her:
    The very head and front of my offending
    Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
    And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:
    For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
    Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
    Their dearest action in the tented field,
    And little of this great world can I speak,
    More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
    And therefore little shall I grace my cause
    In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
    I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
    Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
    What conjuration and what mighty magic,
    For such proceeding I am charged withal,
    I won his daughter.

BRABANTIO    A maiden never bold;
    Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
    Blush'd at herself; and she, in spite of nature,
    Of years, of country, credit, every thing,
    To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on!
    It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect
    That will confess perfection so could err
    Against all rules of nature, and must be driven
    To find out practises of cunning hell,
    Why this should be. I therefore vouch again
    That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood,
    Or with some dram conjured to this effect,
    He wrought upon her.

DUKE OF VENICE    To vouch this, is no proof,
    Without more wider and more overt test
    Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods
    Of modern seeming do prefer against him.

First Senator    But, Othello, speak:
    Did you by indirect and forced courses
    Subdue and poison this young maid's affections?
    Or came it by request and such fair question
    As soul to soul affordeth?

OTHELLO    I do beseech you,
    Send for the lady to the Sagittary,
    And let her speak of me before her father:
    If you do find me foul in her report,
    The trust, the office I do hold of you,
    Not only take away, but let your sentence
    Even fall upon my life.

DUKE OF VENICE    Fetch Desdemona hither.

OTHELLO    Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place.

    [Exeunt IAGO and Attendants]

    And, till she come, as truly as to heaven
    I do confess the vices of my blood,
    So justly to your grave ears I'll present
    How I did thrive in this fair lady's love,
    And she in mine.

DUKE OF VENICE    Say it, Othello.

OTHELLO    Her father loved me; oft invited me;
    Still question'd me the story of my life,
    From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
    That I have passed.
    I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
    To the very moment that he bade me tell it;
    Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
    Of moving accidents by flood and field
    Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
    Of being taken by the insolent foe
    And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
    And portance in my travels' history:
    Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
    Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven
    It was my hint to speak,--such was the process;
    And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
    The Anthropophagi and men whose heads
    Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
    Would Desdemona seriously incline:
    But still the house-affairs would draw her thence:
    Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
    She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear
    Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
    Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
    To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart
    That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
    Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
    But not intentively: I did consent,
    And often did beguile her of her tears,
    When I did speak of some distressful stroke
    That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
    She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:
    She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange,
    'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
    She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
    That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me,
    And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
    I should but teach him how to tell my story.
    And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
    She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
    And I loved her that she did pity them.
    This only is the witchcraft I have used:
    Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

    [Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants]

DUKE OF VENICE    I think this tale would win my daughter too.
    Good Brabantio,
    Take up this mangled matter at the best:
    Men do their broken weapons rather use
    Than their bare hands.

BRABANTIO    I pray you, hear her speak:
    If she confess that she was half the wooer,
    Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
    Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress:
    Do you perceive in all this noble company
    Where most you owe obedience?

DESDEMONA    My noble father,
    I do perceive here a divided duty:
    To you I am bound for life and education;
    My life and education both do learn me
    How to respect you; you are the lord of duty;
    I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband,
    And so much duty as my mother show'd
    To you, preferring you before her father,
    So much I challenge that I may profess
    Due to the Moor my lord.

BRABANTIO    God be wi' you! I have done.
    Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs:
    I had rather to adopt a child than get it.
    Come hither, Moor:
    I here do give thee that with all my heart
    Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
    I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,
    I am glad at soul I have no other child:
    For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
    To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.

DUKE OF VENICE    Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence,
    Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers
    Into your favour.
    When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
    By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
    To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
    Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
    What cannot be preserved when fortune takes
    Patience her injury a mockery makes.
    The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief;
    He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

BRABANTIO    So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
    We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
    He bears the sentence well that nothing bears
    But the free comfort which from thence he hears,
    But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow
    That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
    These sentences, to sugar, or to gall,
    Being strong on both sides, are equivocal:
    But words are words; I never yet did hear
    That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.
    I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.

DUKE OF VENICE    The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for
    Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best
    known to you; and though we have there a substitute
    of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a
    sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer
    voice on you: you must therefore be content to
    slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this
    more stubborn and boisterous expedition.

OTHELLO    The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
    Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
    My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise
    A natural and prompt alacrity
    I find in hardness, and do undertake
    These present wars against the Ottomites.
    Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
    I crave fit disposition for my wife.
    Due reference of place and exhibition,
    With such accommodation and besort
    As levels with her breeding.

DUKE OF VENICE    If you please,
    Be't at her father's.

BRABANTIO    I'll not have it so.

OTHELLO    Nor I.

DESDEMONA         Nor I; I would not there reside,
    To put my father in impatient thoughts
    By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
    To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear;
    And let me find a charter in your voice,
    To assist my simpleness.

DUKE OF VENICE    What would You, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA    That I did love the Moor to live with him,
    My downright violence and storm of fortunes
    May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued
    Even to the very quality of my lord:
    I saw Othello's visage in his mind,
    And to his honour and his valiant parts
    Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
    So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
    A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
    The rites for which I love him are bereft me,
    And I a heavy interim shall support
    By his dear absence. Let me go with him.

OTHELLO    Let her have your voices.
    Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not,
    To please the palate of my appetite,
    Nor to comply with heat--the young affects
    In me defunct--and proper satisfaction.
    But to be free and bounteous to her mind:
    And heaven defend your good souls, that you think
    I will your serious and great business scant
    For she is with me: no, when light-wing'd toys
    Of feather'd Cupid seal with wanton dullness
    My speculative and officed instruments,
    That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
    Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
    And all indign and base adversities
    Make head against my estimation!

DUKE OF VENICE    Be it as you shall privately determine,
    Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste,
    And speed must answer it.

First Senator    You must away to-night.

OTHELLO    With all my heart.

DUKE OF VENICE    At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again.
    Othello, leave some officer behind,
    And he shall our commission bring to you;
    With such things else of quality and respect
    As doth import you.

OTHELLO    So please your grace, my ancient;
    A man he is of honest and trust:
    To his conveyance I assign my wife,
    With what else needful your good grace shall think
    To be sent after me.

DUKE OF VENICE    Let it be so.
    Good night to every one.

    [To BRABANTIO]

           And, noble signior,
    If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
    Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.

First Senator    Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.

BRABANTIO    Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see:
    She has deceived her father, and may thee.

    [Exeunt DUKE OF VENICE, Senators, Officers, &c]

OTHELLO    My life upon her faith! Honest Iago,
    My Desdemona must I leave to thee:
    I prithee, let thy wife attend on her:
    And bring them after in the best advantage.

    Come, Desdemona: I have but an hour
    Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
    To spend with thee: we must obey the time.

    [Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA]

RODERIGO    Iago,--

IAGO    What say'st thou, noble heart?

RODERIGO    What will I do, thinkest thou?

IAGO    Why, go to bed, and sleep.

RODERIGO    I will incontinently drown myself.

IAGO    If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why,
    thou silly gentleman!

RODERIGO    It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and
    then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

IAGO    O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four
    times seven years; and since I could distinguish
    betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man
    that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I
    would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I
    would change my humanity with a baboon.

RODERIGO    What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so
    fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it.

IAGO    Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus
    or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which
    our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant
    nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up
    thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or
    distract it with many, either to have it sterile
    with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the
    power and corrigible authority of this lies in our
    wills. If the balance of our lives had not one
    scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the
    blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us
    to most preposterous conclusions: but we have
    reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal
    stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that
    you call love to be a sect or scion.

RODERIGO    It cannot be.

IAGO    It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of
    the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown
    cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy
    friend and I confess me knit to thy deserving with
    cables of perdurable toughness; I could never
    better stead thee than now. Put money in thy
    purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with
    an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It
    cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her
    love to the Moor,-- put money in thy purse,--nor he
    his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou
    shalt see an answerable sequestration:--put but
    money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in
    their wills: fill thy purse with money:--the food
    that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be
    to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must
    change for youth: when she is sated with his body,
    she will find the error of her choice: she must
    have change, she must: therefore put money in thy
    purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a
    more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money
    thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt
    an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian not
    too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou
    shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of
    drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek
    thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than
    to be drowned and go without her.

RODERIGO    Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on
    the issue?

IAGO    Thou art sure of me:--go, make money:--I have told
    thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I
    hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no
    less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge
    against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost
    thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many
    events in the womb of time which will be delivered.
    Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more
    of this to-morrow. Adieu.

RODERIGO    Where shall we meet i' the morning?

IAGO    At my lodging.

RODERIGO    I'll be with thee betimes.

IAGO    Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

RODERIGO    What say you?

IAGO    No more of drowning, do you hear?

RODERIGO    I am changed: I'll go sell all my land.

    [Exit]

IAGO    Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
    For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
    If I would time expend with such a snipe.
    But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor:
    And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
    He has done my office: I know not if't be true;
    But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
    Will do as if for surety. He holds me well;
    The better shall my purpose work on him.
    Cassio's a proper man: let me see now:
    To get his place and to plume up my will
    In double knavery--How, how? Let's see:--
    After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
    That he is too familiar with his wife.
    He hath a person and a smooth dispose
    To be suspected, framed to make women false.
    The Moor is of a free and open nature,
    That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
    And will as tenderly be led by the nose
    As asses are.
    I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night
    Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.

    [Exit]




    OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE I    A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay.


    [Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen]

MONTANO    What from the cape can you discern at sea?

First Gentleman    Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood;
    I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main,
    Descry a sail.

MONTANO    Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land;
    A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements:
    If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea,
    What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them,
    Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this?

Second Gentleman    A segregation of the Turkish fleet:

    For do but stand upon the foaming shore,
    The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds;
    The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane,
    seems to cast water on the burning bear,
    And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole:
    I never did like molestation view
    On the enchafed flood.

MONTANO    If that the Turkish fleet
    Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd:
    It is impossible they bear it out.

    [Enter a third Gentleman]

Third Gentleman    News, lads! our wars are done.
    The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,
    That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice
    Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance
    On most part of their fleet.

MONTANO    How! is this true?

Third Gentleman    The ship is here put in,
    A Veronesa; Michael Cassio,
    Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello,
    Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea,
    And is in full commission here for Cyprus.

MONTANO    I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor.

Third Gentleman    But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort
    Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly,
    And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted
    With foul and violent tempest.

MONTANO    Pray heavens he be;
    For I have served him, and the man commands
    Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho!
    As well to see the vessel that's come in
    As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello,
    Even till we make the main and the aerial blue
    An indistinct regard.

Third Gentleman    Come, let's do so:
    For every minute is expectancy
    Of more arrivance.

    [Enter CASSIO]

CASSIO    Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle,
    That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens
    Give him defence against the elements,
    For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea.

MONTANO    Is he well shipp'd?

CASSIO    His bark is stoutly timber'd, his pilot
    Of very expert and approved allowance;
    Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death,
    Stand in bold cure.

    [A cry within 'A sail, a sail, a sail!']

    [Enter a fourth Gentleman]

CASSIO    What noise?

Fourth Gentleman    The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea
    Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!'

CASSIO    My hopes do shape him for the governor.

    [Guns heard]

Second Gentlemen    They do discharge their shot of courtesy:
    Our friends at least.

CASSIO    I pray you, sir, go forth,
    And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived.

Second Gentleman    I shall.

    [Exit]

MONTANO    But, good lieutenant, is your general wived?

CASSIO    Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid
    That paragons description and wild fame;
    One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,
    And in the essential vesture of creation
    Does tire the ingener.

    [Re-enter second Gentleman]

    How now! who has put in?

Second Gentleman    'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.

CASSIO    Has had most favourable and happy speed:
    Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
    The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands--
    Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,--
    As having sense of beauty, do omit
    Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
    The divine Desdemona.

MONTANO    What is she?

CASSIO    She that I spake of, our great captain's captain,
    Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,
    Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts
    A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,
    And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,
    That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,
    Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms,
    Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits
    And bring all Cyprus comfort!

    [Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and
    Attendants]

                O, behold,
    The riches of the ship is come on shore!
    Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.
    Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven,
    Before, behind thee, and on every hand,
    Enwheel thee round!

DESDEMONA    I thank you, valiant Cassio.
    What tidings can you tell me of my lord?

CASSIO    He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught
    But that he's well and will be shortly here.

DESDEMONA    O, but I fear--How lost you company?

CASSIO    The great contention of the sea and skies
    Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail.

    [Within 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard]

Second Gentleman    They give their greeting to the citadel;
    This likewise is a friend.

CASSIO    See for the news.

    [Exit Gentleman]

    Good ancient, you are welcome.

    [To EMILIA]

                 Welcome, mistress.
    Let it not gall your patience, good Iago,
    That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding
    That gives me this bold show of courtesy.

    [Kissing her]

IAGO    Sir, would she give you so much of her lips
    As of her tongue she oft bestows on me,
    You'll have enough.

DESDEMONA    Alas, she has no speech.

IAGO    In faith, too much;
    I find it still, when I have list to sleep:
    Marry, before your ladyship, I grant,
    She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
    And chides with thinking.

EMILIA    You have little cause to say so.

IAGO    Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors,
    Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens,
    Saints m your injuries, devils being offended,
    Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds.

DESDEMONA    O, fie upon thee, slanderer!

IAGO    Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk:
    You rise to play and go to bed to work.

EMILIA    You shall not write my praise.

IAGO    No, let me not.

DESDEMONA    What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst
    praise me?

IAGO    O gentle lady, do not put me to't;
    For I am nothing, if not critical.

DESDEMONA    Come on assay. There's one gone to the harbour?

IAGO    Ay, madam.

DESDEMONA    I am not merry; but I do beguile
    The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
    Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

IAGO    I am about it; but indeed my invention
    Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize;
    It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours,
    And thus she is deliver'd.
    If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
    The one's for use, the other useth it.

DESDEMONA    Well praised! How if she be black and witty?

IAGO    If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
    She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit.

DESDEMONA    Worse and worse.

EMILIA    How if fair and foolish?

IAGO    She never yet was foolish that was fair;
    For even her folly help'd her to an heir.

DESDEMONA    These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i'
    the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for
    her that's foul and foolish?

IAGO    There's none so foul and foolish thereunto,
    But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do.

DESDEMONA    O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best.
    But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving
    woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her
    merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself?

IAGO    She that was ever fair and never proud,
    Had tongue at will and yet was never loud,
    Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay,
    Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,'
    She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh,
    Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly,
    She that in wisdom never was so frail
    To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail;
    She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind,
    See suitors following and not look behind,
    She was a wight, if ever such wight were,--

DESDEMONA    To do what?

IAGO    To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.

DESDEMONA    O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn
    of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say
    you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal
    counsellor?

CASSIO    He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in
    the soldier than in the scholar.

IAGO    [Aside]  He takes her by the palm: ay, well said,
    whisper: with as little a web as this will I
    ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon
    her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
    You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
    these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had
    been better you had not kissed your three fingers so
    oft, which now again you are most apt to play the
    sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent
    courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers
    to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake!

    [Trumpet within]

    The Moor! I know his trumpet.

CASSIO    'Tis truly so.

DESDEMONA    Let's meet him and receive him.

CASSIO    Lo, where he comes!

    [Enter OTHELLO and Attendants]

OTHELLO    O my fair warrior!

DESDEMONA                      My dear Othello!

OTHELLO    It gives me wonder great as my content
    To see you here before me. O my soul's joy!
    If after every tempest come such calms,
    May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
    And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas
    Olympus-high and duck again as low
    As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
    'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
    My soul hath her content so absolute
    That not another comfort like to this
    Succeeds in unknown fate.

DESDEMONA    The heavens forbid
    But that our loves and comforts should increase,
    Even as our days do grow!

OTHELLO    Amen to that, sweet powers!
    I cannot speak enough of this content;
    It stops me here; it is too much of joy:
    And this, and this, the greatest discords be

    [Kissing her]

    That e'er our hearts shall make!

IAGO    [Aside]  O, you are well tuned now!
    But I'll set down the pegs that make this music,
    As honest as I am.

OTHELLO                      Come, let us to the castle.
    News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks
    are drown'd.
    How does my old acquaintance of this isle?
    Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus;
    I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet,
    I prattle out of fashion, and I dote
    In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago,
    Go to the bay and disembark my coffers:
    Bring thou the master to the citadel;
    He is a good one, and his worthiness
    Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona,
    Once more, well met at Cyprus.

    [Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

IAGO    Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come
    hither. If thou be'st valiant,-- as, they say, base
    men being in love have then a nobility in their
    natures more than is native to them--list me. The
    lieutenant tonight watches on the court of
    guard:--first, I must tell thee this--Desdemona is
    directly in love with him.


RODERIGO    With him! why, 'tis not possible.

IAGO    Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
    Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor,
    but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies:
    and will she love him still for prating? let not
    thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed;
    and what delight shall she have to look on the
    devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of
    sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to
    give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour,
    sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which
    the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these
    required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will
    find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge,
    disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will
    instruct her in it and compel her to some second
    choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most
    pregnant and unforced position--who stands so
    eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio
    does? a knave very voluble; no further
    conscionable than in putting on the mere form of
    civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing
    of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why,
    none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a
    finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and
    counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never
    present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the
    knave is handsome, young, and hath all those
    requisites in him that folly and green minds look
    after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman
    hath found him already.

RODERIGO    I cannot believe that in her; she's full of
    most blessed condition.

IAGO    Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks is made of
    grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never
    have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou
    not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst
    not mark that?

RODERIGO    Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.

IAGO    Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue
    to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met
    so near with their lips that their breaths embraced
    together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these
    mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes
    the master and main exercise, the incorporate
    conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I
    have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night;
    for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows
    you not. I'll not be far from you: do you find
    some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking
    too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what
    other course you please, which the time shall more
    favourably minister.

RODERIGO    Well.

IAGO    Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply
    may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for
    even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to
    mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true
    taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So
    shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by
    the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the
    impediment most profitably removed, without the
    which there were no expectation of our prosperity.

RODERIGO    I will do this, if I can bring it to any
    opportunity.

IAGO    I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel:
    I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell.

RODERIGO    Adieu.

    [Exit]

IAGO    That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it;
    That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit:
    The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not,
    Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,
    And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona
    A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;
    Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure
    I stand accountant for as great a sin,
    But partly led to diet my revenge,
    For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
    Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof
    Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;
    And nothing can or shall content my soul
    Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife,
    Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor
    At least into a jealousy so strong
    That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,
    If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash
    For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
    I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
    Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb--
    For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too--
    Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
    For making him egregiously an ass
    And practising upon his peace and quiet
    Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:
    Knavery's plain face is never seen tin used.

    [Exit]




    OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE II    A street.


    [Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People
    following]

Herald    It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant
    general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived,
    importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet,
    every man put himself into triumph; some to dance,
    some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and
    revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these
    beneficial news, it is the celebration of his
    nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be
    proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full
    liberty of feasting from this present hour of five
    till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the
    isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT II



SCENE III    A hall in the castle.


    [Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants]

OTHELLO    Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night:
    Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
    Not to outsport discretion.

CASSIO    Iago hath direction what to do;
    But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
    Will I look to't.

OTHELLO                      Iago is most honest.
    Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest
    Let me have speech with you.

    [To DESDEMONA]

               Come, my dear love,
    The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue;
    That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
    Good night.

    [Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

    [Enter IAGO]

CASSIO    Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.

IAGO    Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the
    clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love
    of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame:
    he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and
    she is sport for Jove.

CASSIO    She's a most exquisite lady.

IAGO    And, I'll warrant her, fun of game.

CASSIO    Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.

IAGO    What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of
    provocation.

CASSIO    An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.

IAGO    And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?

CASSIO    She is indeed perfection.

IAGO    Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I
    have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace
    of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to
    the health of black Othello.

CASSIO    Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and
    unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish
    courtesy would invent some other custom of
    entertainment.

IAGO    O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for
    you.

CASSIO    I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was
    craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation
    it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity,
    and dare not task my weakness with any more.

IAGO    What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants
    desire it.

CASSIO    Where are they?

IAGO    Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.

CASSIO    I'll do't; but it dislikes me.

    [Exit]

IAGO    If I can fasten but one cup upon him,
    With that which he hath drunk to-night already,
    He'll be as full of quarrel and offence
    As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo,
    Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out,
    To Desdemona hath to-night caroused
    Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch:
    Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits,
    That hold their honours in a wary distance,
    The very elements of this warlike isle,
    Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups,
    And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards,
    Am I to put our Cassio in some action
    That may offend the isle.--But here they come:
    If consequence do but approve my dream,
    My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.

    [Re-enter CASSIO; with him MONTANO and Gentlemen;
    servants following with wine]

CASSIO    'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.

MONTANO    Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am
    a soldier.

IAGO    Some wine, ho!

    [Sings]

    And let me the canakin clink, clink;
    And let me the canakin clink
    A soldier's a man;
    A life's but a span;
    Why, then, let a soldier drink.
    Some wine, boys!

CASSIO    'Fore God, an excellent song.

IAGO    I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are
    most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and
    your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing
    to your English.

CASSIO    Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?

IAGO    Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead
    drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he
    gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle
    can be filled.

CASSIO    To the health of our general!

MONTANO    I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.

IAGO    O sweet England!
    King Stephen was a worthy peer,
    His breeches cost him but a crown;
    He held them sixpence all too dear,
    With that he call'd the tailor lown.
    He was a wight of high renown,
    And thou art but of low degree:
    'Tis pride that pulls the country down;
    Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
    Some wine, ho!

CASSIO    Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

IAGO    Will you hear't again?

CASSIO    No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that
    does those things. Well, God's above all; and there
    be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

IAGO    It's true, good lieutenant.

CASSIO    For mine own part,--no offence to the general, nor
    any man of quality,--I hope to be saved.

IAGO    And so do I too, lieutenant.

CASSIO    Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the
    lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's
    have no more of this; let's to our affairs.--Forgive
    us our sins!--Gentlemen, let's look to our business.
    Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my
    ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left:
    I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and
    speak well enough.

All    Excellent well.

CASSIO    Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk.

    [Exit]

MONTANO    To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.

IAGO    You see this fellow that is gone before;
    He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
    And give direction: and do but see his vice;
    'Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
    The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him.
    I fear the trust Othello puts him in.
    On some odd time of his infirmity,
    Will shake this island.

MONTANO    But is he often thus?

IAGO    'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
    He'll watch the horologe a double set,
    If drink rock not his cradle.

MONTANO    It were well
    The general were put in mind of it.
    Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature
    Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
    And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

    [Enter RODERIGO]

IAGO    [Aside to him]  How now, Roderigo!
    I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.

    [Exit RODERIGO]

MONTANO    And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor
    Should hazard such a place as his own second
    With one of an ingraft infirmity:
    It were an honest action to say
    So to the Moor.

IAGO                      Not I, for this fair island:
    I do love Cassio well; and would do much
    To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise?

    [Cry within: 'Help! help!']

    [Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO]

CASSIO    You rogue! you rascal!

MONTANO    What's the matter, lieutenant?

CASSIO    A knave teach me my duty!
    I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

RODERIGO    Beat me!

CASSIO           Dost thou prate, rogue?

    [Striking RODERIGO]

MONTANO    Nay, good lieutenant;

    [Staying him]

    I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

CASSIO    Let me go, sir,
    Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

MONTANO    Come, come,
                          you're drunk.

CASSIO    Drunk!

    [They fight]

IAGO    [Aside to RODERIGO]  Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny.

    [Exit RODERIGO]

    Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;--
    Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--sir;
    Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed!

    [Bell rings]

    Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!
    The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold!
    You will be shamed for ever.

    [Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants]

OTHELLO    What is the matter here?

MONTANO    'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.

    [Faints]

OTHELLO    Hold, for your lives!

IAGO    Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,--
    Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
    Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!

OTHELLO    Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
    Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that
    Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
    For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
    He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
    Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
    Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
    From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?
    Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
    Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.

IAGO    I do not know: friends all but now, even now,
    In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
    Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--
    As if some planet had unwitted men--
    Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
    In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
    Any beginning to this peevish odds;
    And would in action glorious I had lost
    Those legs that brought me to a part of it!

OTHELLO    How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?

CASSIO    I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.

OTHELLO    Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;
    The gravity and stillness of your youth
    The world hath noted, and your name is great
    In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter,
    That you unlace your reputation thus
    And spend your rich opinion for the name
    Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

MONTANO    Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
    Your officer, Iago, can inform you,--
    While I spare speech, which something now
    offends me,--
    Of all that I do know: nor know I aught
    By me that's said or done amiss this night;
    Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
    And to defend ourselves it be a sin
    When violence assails us.

OTHELLO    Now, by heaven,
    My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
    And passion, having my best judgment collied,
    Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,
    Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
    Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
    How this foul rout began, who set it on;
    And he that is approved in this offence,
    Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,
    Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,
    Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear,
    To manage private and domestic quarrel,
    In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
    'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't?

MONTANO    If partially affined, or leagued in office,
    Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
    Thou art no soldier.

IAGO    Touch me not so near:
    I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
    Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
    Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
    Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
    Montano and myself being in speech,
    There comes a fellow crying out for help:
    And Cassio following him with determined sword,
    To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
    Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
    Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
    Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out--
    The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
    Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather
    For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
    And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night
    I ne'er might say before. When I came back--
    For this was brief--I found them close together,
    At blow and thrust; even as again they were
    When you yourself did part them.
    More of this matter cannot I report:
    But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
    Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
    As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
    Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received
    From him that fled some strange indignity,
    Which patience could not pass.

OTHELLO    I know, Iago,
    Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
    Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee
    But never more be officer of mine.

    [Re-enter DESDEMONA, attended]

    Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!
    I'll make thee an example.

DESDEMONA    What's the matter?

OTHELLO    All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed.
    Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:
    Lead him off.

    [To MONTANO, who is led off]

    Iago, look with care about the town,
    And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.
    Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life
    To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.

    [Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO]

IAGO    What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

CASSIO    Ay, past all surgery.

IAGO    Marry, heaven forbid!

CASSIO    Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost
    my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of
    myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,
    Iago, my reputation!

IAGO    As I am an honest man, I thought you had received
    some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than
    in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false
    imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without
    deserving: you have lost no reputation at all,
    unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man!
    there are ways to recover the general again: you
    are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in
    policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his
    offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue
    to him again, and he's yours.

CASSIO    I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so
    good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so
    indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot?
    and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse
    fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible
    spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,
    let us call thee devil!

IAGO    What was he that you followed with your sword? What
    had he done to you?

CASSIO    I know not.

IAGO    Is't possible?

CASSIO    I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;
    a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men
    should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away
    their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance
    revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

IAGO    Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus
    recovered?

CASSIO    It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place
    to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me
    another, to make me frankly despise myself.

IAGO    Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time,
    the place, and the condition of this country
    stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen;
    but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

CASSIO    I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me
    I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra,
    such an answer would stop them all. To be now a
    sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a
    beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is
    unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.

IAGO    Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature,
    if it be well used: exclaim no more against it.
    And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.

CASSIO    I have well approved it, sir. I drunk!

IAGO    You or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man.
    I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife
    is now the general: may say so in this respect, for
    that he hath devoted and given up himself to the
    contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and
    graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune
    her help to put you in your place again: she is of
    so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition,
    she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more
    than she is requested: this broken joint between
    you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my
    fortunes against any lay worth naming, this
    crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

CASSIO    You advise me well.

IAGO    I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.

CASSIO    I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will
    beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me:
    I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here.

IAGO    You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I
    must to the watch.

CASSIO: Good night, honest Iago.

    [Exit]

IAGO    And what's he then that says I play the villain?
    When this advice is free I give and honest,
    Probal to thinking and indeed the course
    To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
    The inclining Desdemona to subdue
    In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful
    As the free elements. And then for her
    To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism,
    All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
    His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
    That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
    Even as her appetite shall play the god
    With his weak function. How am I then a villain
    To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
    Directly to his good? Divinity of hell!
    When devils will the blackest sins put on,
    They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,
    As I do now: for whiles this honest fool
    Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes
    And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
    I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,
    That she repeals him for her body's lust;
    And by how much she strives to do him good,
    She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
    So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
    And out of her own goodness make the net
    That shall enmesh them all.

    [Re-enter RODERIGO]

              How now, Roderigo!

RODERIGO    I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that
    hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is
    almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well
    cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall
    have so much experience for my pains, and so, with
    no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice.

IAGO    How poor are they that have not patience!
    What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
    Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
    And wit depends on dilatory time.
    Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.
    And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:
    Though other things grow fair against the sun,
    Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
    Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;
    Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
    Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
    Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
    Nay, get thee gone.

    [Exit RODERIGO]

    Two things are to be done:
    My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
    I'll set her on;
    Myself the while to draw the Moor apart,
    And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
    Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way
    Dull not device by coldness and delay.

    [Exit]




    OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE I    Before the castle.


    [Enter CASSIO and some Musicians]

CASSIO    Masters, play here; I will content your pains;
    Something that's brief; and bid 'Good morrow, general.'

    [Music]

    [Enter Clown]

Clown    Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples,
    that they speak i' the nose thus?

First Musician    How, sir, how!

Clown    Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?

First Musician    Ay, marry, are they, sir.

Clown    O, thereby hangs a tail.

First Musician    Whereby hangs a tale, sir?

Clown    Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know.
    But, masters, here's money for you: and the general
    so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's
    sake, to make no more noise with it.

First Musician    Well, sir, we will not.

Clown    If you have any music that may not be heard, to't
    again: but, as they say to hear music the general
    does not greatly care.

First Musician    We have none such, sir.

Clown    Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away:
    go; vanish into air; away!

    [Exeunt Musicians]

CASSIO    Dost thou hear, my honest friend?

Clown    No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.

CASSIO    Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece
    of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends
    the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's
    one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech:
    wilt thou do this?

Clown    She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I
    shall seem to notify unto her.

CASSIO    Do, good my friend.

    [Exit Clown]

    [Enter IAGO]

    In happy time, Iago.

IAGO    You have not been a-bed, then?

CASSIO    Why, no; the day had broke
    Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,
    To send in to your wife: my suit to her
    Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
    Procure me some access.

IAGO    I'll send her to you presently;
    And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor
    Out of the way, that your converse and business
    May be more free.

CASSIO    I humbly thank you for't.

    [Exit IAGO]

            I never knew
    A Florentine more kind and honest.

    [Enter EMILIA]

EMILIA    Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
    For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
    The general and his wife are talking of it;
    And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies,
    That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus,
    And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom
    He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you
    And needs no other suitor but his likings
    To take the safest occasion by the front
    To bring you in again.

CASSIO    Yet, I beseech you,
    If you think fit, or that it may be done,
    Give me advantage of some brief discourse
    With Desdemona alone.

EMILIA    Pray you, come in;
    I will bestow you where you shall have time
    To speak your bosom freely.

CASSIO    I am much bound to you.

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE II    A room in the castle.


    [Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen]

OTHELLO    These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
    And by him do my duties to the senate:
    That done, I will be walking on the works;
    Repair there to me.

IAGO    Well, my good lord, I'll do't.

OTHELLO    This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't?

Gentleman    We'll wait upon your lordship.

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE III    The garden of the castle.


    [Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA]

DESDEMONA    Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
    All my abilities in thy behalf.

EMILIA    Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband,
    As if the case were his.

DESDEMONA    O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio,
    But I will have my lord and you again
    As friendly as you were.

CASSIO    Bounteous madam,
    Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio,
    He's never any thing but your true servant.

DESDEMONA    I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord:
    You have known him long; and be you well assured
    He shall in strangeness stand no further off
    Than in a polite distance.

CASSIO    Ay, but, lady,
    That policy may either last so long,
    Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
    Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
    That, I being absent and my place supplied,
    My general will forget my love and service.

DESDEMONA    Do not doubt that; before Emilia here
    I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
    If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it
    To the last article: my lord shall never rest;
    I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience;
    His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift;
    I'll intermingle every thing he does
    With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio;
    For thy solicitor shall rather die
    Than give thy cause away.

EMILIA    Madam, here comes my lord.

CASSIO    Madam, I'll take my leave.

DESDEMONA    Why, stay, and hear me speak.

CASSIO    Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,
    Unfit for mine own purposes.

DESDEMONA    Well, do your discretion.

    [Exit CASSIO]

    [Enter OTHELLO and IAGO]

IAGO    Ha! I like not that.

OTHELLO    What dost thou say?

IAGO    Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what.

OTHELLO    Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?

IAGO    Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it,
    That he would steal away so guilty-like,
    Seeing you coming.

OTHELLO                      I do believe 'twas he.

DESDEMONA    How now, my lord!
    I have been talking with a suitor here,
    A man that languishes in your displeasure.

OTHELLO    Who is't you mean?

DESDEMONA    Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
    If I have any grace or power to move you,
    His present reconciliation take;
    For if he be not one that truly loves you,
    That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
    I have no judgment in an honest face:
    I prithee, call him back.

OTHELLO    Went he hence now?

DESDEMONA    Ay, sooth; so humbled
    That he hath left part of his grief with me,
    To suffer with him. Good love, call him back.

OTHELLO    Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time.

DESDEMONA    But shall't be shortly?

OTHELLO    The sooner, sweet, for you.

DESDEMONA    Shall't be to-night at supper?

OTHELLO    No, not to-night.

DESDEMONA    To-morrow dinner, then?

OTHELLO    I shall not dine at home;
    I meet the captains at the citadel.

DESDEMONA    Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;
    On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:
    I prithee, name the time, but let it not
    Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent;
    And yet his trespass, in our common reason--
    Save that, they say, the wars must make examples
    Out of their best--is not almost a fault
    To incur a private cheque. When shall he come?
    Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,
    What you would ask me, that I should deny,
    Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
    That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time,
    When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
    Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do
    To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,--

OTHELLO    Prithee, no more: let him come when he will;
    I will deny thee nothing.

DESDEMONA    Why, this is not a boon;
    'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
    Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
    Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
    To your own person: nay, when I have a suit
    Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
    It shall be full of poise and difficult weight
    And fearful to be granted.

OTHELLO    I will deny thee nothing:
    Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
    To leave me but a little to myself.

DESDEMONA    Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord.

OTHELLO    Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight.

DESDEMONA    Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;
    Whate'er you be, I am obedient.

    [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

OTHELLO    Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
    But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,
    Chaos is come again.

IAGO    My noble lord--

OTHELLO                      What dost thou say, Iago?

IAGO    Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady,
    Know of your love?

OTHELLO    He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask?

IAGO    But for a satisfaction of my thought;
    No further harm.

OTHELLO                      Why of thy thought, Iago?

IAGO    I did not think he had been acquainted with her.

OTHELLO    O, yes; and went between us very oft.

IAGO    Indeed!

OTHELLO    Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou aught in that?
    Is he not honest?

IAGO    Honest, my lord!

OTHELLO                      Honest! ay, honest.

IAGO    My lord, for aught I know.

OTHELLO    What dost thou think?

IAGO    Think, my lord!

OTHELLO    Think, my lord!
    By heaven, he echoes me,
    As if there were some monster in his thought
    Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:
    I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that,
    When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?
    And when I told thee he was of my counsel
    In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!'
    And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
    As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
    Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,
    Show me thy thought.

IAGO    My lord, you know I love you.

OTHELLO    I think thou dost;
    And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty,
    And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath,
    Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more:
    For such things in a false disloyal knave
    Are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just
    They are close delations, working from the heart
    That passion cannot rule.

IAGO    For Michael Cassio,
    I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.

OTHELLO    I think so too.

IAGO                      Men should be what they seem;
    Or those that be not, would they might seem none!

OTHELLO    Certain, men should be what they seem.

IAGO    Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man.

OTHELLO    Nay, yet there's more in this:
    I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
    As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
    The worst of words.

IAGO    Good my lord, pardon me:
    Though I am bound to every act of duty,
    I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
    Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false;
    As where's that palace whereinto foul things
    Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
    But some uncleanly apprehensions
    Keep leets and law-days and in session sit
    With meditations lawful?

OTHELLO    Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
    If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear
    A stranger to thy thoughts.

IAGO    I do beseech you--
    Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
    As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
    To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
    Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet,
    From one that so imperfectly conceits,
    Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
    Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
    It were not for your quiet nor your good,
    Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
    To let you know my thoughts.

OTHELLO    What dost thou mean?

IAGO    Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
    Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
    Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
    'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands:
    But he that filches from me my good name
    Robs me of that which not enriches him
    And makes me poor indeed.

OTHELLO    By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts.

IAGO    You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
    Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.

OTHELLO    Ha!

IAGO    O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
    It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
    The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss
    Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
    But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
    Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

OTHELLO    O misery!

IAGO    Poor and content is rich and rich enough,
    But riches fineless is as poor as winter
    To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
    Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
    From jealousy!

OTHELLO                      Why, why is this?
    Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy,
    To follow still the changes of the moon
    With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt
    Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat,
    When I shall turn the business of my soul
    To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
    Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous
    To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
    Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well;
    Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
    Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
    The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;
    For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago;
    I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
    And on the proof, there is no more but this,--
    Away at once with love or jealousy!

IAGO    I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason
    To show the love and duty that I bear you
    With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,
    Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
    Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
    Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure:
    I would not have your free and noble nature,
    Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to't:
    I know our country disposition well;
    In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
    They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience
    Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown.

OTHELLO    Dost thou say so?

IAGO    She did deceive her father, marrying you;
    And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks,
    She loved them most.

OTHELLO    And so she did.

IAGO    Why, go to then;
    She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
    To seal her father's eyes up close as oak-
    He thought 'twas witchcraft--but I am much to blame;
    I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
    For too much loving you.

OTHELLO    I am bound to thee for ever.

IAGO    I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits.

OTHELLO    Not a jot, not a jot.

IAGO    I' faith, I fear it has.
    I hope you will consider what is spoke
    Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved:
    I am to pray you not to strain my speech
    To grosser issues nor to larger reach
    Than to suspicion.

OTHELLO    I will not.

IAGO              Should you do so, my lord,
    My speech should fall into such vile success
    As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend--
    My lord, I see you're moved.

OTHELLO    No, not much moved:
    I do not think but Desdemona's honest.

IAGO    Long live she so! and long live you to think so!

OTHELLO    And yet, how nature erring from itself,--

IAGO    Ay, there's the point: as--to be bold with you--
    Not to affect many proposed matches
    Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
    Whereto we see in all things nature tends--
    Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank,
    Foul disproportion thoughts unnatural.
    But pardon me; I do not in position
    Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear
    Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,
    May fall to match you with her country forms
    And happily repent.

OTHELLO    Farewell, farewell:
    If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
    Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago:

IAGO    [Going]  My lord, I take my leave.

OTHELLO    Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
    Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.

IAGO    [Returning]  My lord, I would I might entreat
    your honour
    To scan this thing no further; leave it to time:
    Though it be fit that Cassio have his place,
    For sure, he fills it up with great ability,
    Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile,
    You shall by that perceive him and his means:
    Note, if your lady strain his entertainment
    With any strong or vehement importunity;
    Much will be seen in that. In the mean time,
    Let me be thought too busy in my fears--
    As worthy cause I have to fear I am--
    And hold her free, I do beseech your honour.

OTHELLO    Fear not my government.

IAGO    I once more take my leave.

    [Exit]

OTHELLO    This fellow's of exceeding honesty,
    And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
    Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,
    Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,
    I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind,
    To pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black
    And have not those soft parts of conversation
    That chamberers have, or for I am declined
    Into the vale of years,--yet that's not much--
    She's gone. I am abused; and my relief
    Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,
    That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
    And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad,
    And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
    Than keep a corner in the thing I love
    For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones;
    Prerogatived are they less than the base;
    'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death:
    Even then this forked plague is fated to us
    When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:

    [Re-enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

    If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself!
    I'll not believe't.

DESDEMONA    How now, my dear Othello!
    Your dinner, and the generous islanders
    By you invited, do attend your presence.

OTHELLO    I am to blame.

DESDEMONA                      Why do you speak so faintly?
    Are you not well?

OTHELLO    I have a pain upon my forehead here.

DESDEMONA    'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again:
    Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
    It will be well.

OTHELLO                      Your napkin is too little:

    [He puts the handkerchief from him; and it drops]

    Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.

DESDEMONA    I am very sorry that you are not well.

    [Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA]

EMILIA    I am glad I have found this napkin:
    This was her first remembrance from the Moor:
    My wayward husband hath a hundred times
    Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token,
    For he conjured her she should ever keep it,
    That she reserves it evermore about her
    To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
    And give't Iago: what he will do with it
    Heaven knows, not I;
    I nothing but to please his fantasy.

    [Re-enter Iago]

IAGO    How now! what do you here alone?

EMILIA    Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.

IAGO    A thing for me? it is a common thing--

EMILIA    Ha!

IAGO    To have a foolish wife.

EMILIA    O, is that all? What will you give me now
    For the same handkerchief?

IAGO    What handkerchief?

EMILIA    What handkerchief?
    Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
    That which so often you did bid me steal.

IAGO    Hast stol'n it from her?

EMILIA    No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence.
    And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't up.
    Look, here it is.

IAGO                      A good wench; give it me.

EMILIA    What will you do with 't, that you have been
    so earnest
    To have me filch it?

IAGO    [Snatching it]  Why, what's that to you?

EMILIA    If it be not for some purpose of import,
    Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad
    When she shall lack it.

IAGO    Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it.
    Go, leave me.

    [Exit EMILIA]

    I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
    And let him find it. Trifles light as air
    Are to the jealous confirmations strong
    As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
    The Moor already changes with my poison:
    Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons.
    Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
    But with a little act upon the blood.
    Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so:
    Look, where he comes!

    [Re-enter OTHELLO]

        Not poppy, nor mandragora,
    Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
    Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
    Which thou owedst yesterday.

OTHELLO    Ha! ha! false to me?

IAGO    Why, how now, general! no more of that.

OTHELLO    Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:
    I swear 'tis better to be much abused
    Than but to know't a little.

IAGO    How now, my lord!

OTHELLO    What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust?
    I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me:
    I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
    I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips:
    He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,
    Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.

IAGO    I am sorry to hear this.

OTHELLO    I had been happy, if the general camp,
    Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,
    So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever
    Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
    Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
    That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
    Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
    The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
    The royal banner, and all quality,
    Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!
    And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
    The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit,
    Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!

IAGO    Is't possible, my lord?

OTHELLO    Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
    Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof:
    Or by the worth of man's eternal soul,
    Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
    Than answer my waked wrath!

IAGO    Is't come to this?

OTHELLO    Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it,
    That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
    To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!

IAGO    My noble lord,--

OTHELLO    If thou dost slander her and torture me,
    Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
    On horror's head horrors accumulate;
    Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
    For nothing canst thou to damnation add
    Greater than that.

IAGO                      O grace! O heaven forgive me!
    Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?
    God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool.
    That livest to make thine honesty a vice!
    O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
    To be direct and honest is not safe.
    I thank you for this profit; and from hence
    I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.

OTHELLO    Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest.

IAGO    I should be wise, for honesty's a fool
    And loses that it works for.

OTHELLO    By the world,
    I think my wife be honest and think she is not;
    I think that thou art just and think thou art not.
    I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
    As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black
    As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
    Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
    I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!

IAGO    I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
    I do repent me that I put it to you.
    You would be satisfied?

OTHELLO    Would! nay, I will.

IAGO    And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord?
    Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on--
    Behold her topp'd?

OTHELLO                      Death and damnation! O!

IAGO    It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
    To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,
    If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
    More than their own! What then? how then?
    What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?
    It is impossible you should see this,
    Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
    As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
    As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
    If imputation and strong circumstances,
    Which lead directly to the door of truth,
    Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.

OTHELLO    Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

IAGO    I do not like the office:
    But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,
    Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
    I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
    And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
    I could not sleep.
    There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
    That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
    One of this kind is Cassio:
    In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona,
    Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;'
    And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
    Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard,
    As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots
    That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
    Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
    Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!'

OTHELLO    O monstrous! monstrous!

IAGO    Nay, this was but his dream.

OTHELLO    But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
    'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.

IAGO    And this may help to thicken other proofs
    That do demonstrate thinly.

OTHELLO    I'll tear her all to pieces.

IAGO    Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;
    She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
    Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
    Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand?

OTHELLO    I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift.

IAGO    I know not that; but such a handkerchief--
    I am sure it was your wife's--did I to-day
    See Cassio wipe his beard with.

OTHELLO    If it be that--

IAGO    If it be that, or any that was hers,
    It speaks against her with the other proofs.

OTHELLO    O, that the slave had forty thousand lives!
    One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.
    Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago;
    All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven.
    'Tis gone.
    Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
    Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
    To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,
    For 'tis of aspics' tongues!

IAGO    Yet be content.

OTHELLO    O, blood, blood, blood!

IAGO    Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change.

OTHELLO    Never, Iago: Like to the Pontic sea,
    Whose icy current and compulsive course
    Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
    To the Propontic and the Hellespont,
    Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace,
    Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love,
    Till that a capable and wide revenge
    Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven,

    [Kneels]

    In the due reverence of a sacred vow
    I here engage my words.

IAGO    Do not rise yet.

    [Kneels]

    Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
    You elements that clip us round about,
    Witness that here Iago doth give up
    The execution of his wit, hands, heart,
    To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command,
    And to obey shall be in me remorse,
    What bloody business ever.

    [They rise]

OTHELLO    I greet thy love,
    Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
    And will upon the instant put thee to't:
    Within these three days let me hear thee say
    That Cassio's not alive.

IAGO    My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request:
    But let her live.

OTHELLO    Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her!
    Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw,
    To furnish me with some swift means of death
    For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant.

IAGO    I am your own for ever.

    [Exeunt]



    OTHELLO


ACT III



SCENE IV    Before the castle.


    [Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown]

DESDEMONA    Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies?

Clown    I dare not say he lies any where.

DESDEMONA    Why, man?

Clown    He's a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies,
    is stabbing.

DESDEMONA    Go to: where lodges he?

Clown    To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.

DESDEMONA    Can any thing be made of this?

Clown    I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a
    lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were
    to lie in mine own throat.

DESDEMONA    Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report?

Clown    I will catechise the world for him; that is, make
    questions, and by them answer.

DESDEMONA    Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have
    moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well.

Clown    To do this is within the compass of man's wit: and
    therefore I will attempt the doing it.

    [Exit]

DESDEMONA    Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia?

EMILIA    I know not, madam.

DESDEMONA    Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
    Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor
    Is true of mind and made of no such baseness
    As jealous creatures are, it were enough
    To put him to ill thinking.

EMILIA    Is he not jealous?

DESDEMONA    Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
    Drew all such humours from him.

EMILIA    Look, where he comes.

DESDEMONA    I will not leave him now till Cassio
    Be call'd to him.

    [Enter OTHELLO]

    How is't with you, my lord

OTHELLO    Well, my good lady.

    [Aside]

    O, hardness to dissemble!--
    How do you, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA    Well, my good lord.

OTHELLO    Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.

DESDEMONA    It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.

OTHELLO    This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:
    Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
    A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer,
    Much castigation, exercise devout;
    For here's a young and sweating devil here,
    That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
    A frank one.

DESDEMONA                      You may, indeed, say so;
    For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

OTHELLO    A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
    But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

DESDEMONA    I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.

OTHELLO    What promise, chuck?

DESDEMONA    I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.

OTHELLO    I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
    Lend me thy handkerchief.

DESDEMONA    Here, my lord.

OTHELLO    That which I gave you.

DESDEMONA    I have it not about me.

OTHELLO    Not?

DESDEMONA       No, indeed, my lord.

OTHELLO    That is a fault.

    That handkerchief
    Did an Egyptian to my mother give;
    She was a charmer, and could almost read
    The thoughts of people: she told her, while
    she kept it,
    'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father
    Entirely to her love, but if she lost it
    Or made gift of it, my father's eye
    Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt
    After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me;
    And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
    To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't;
    Make it a darling like your precious eye;
    To lose't or give't away were such perdition
    As nothing else could match.

DESDEMONA    Is't possible?

OTHELLO    'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it:
    A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
    The sun to course two hundred compasses,
    In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
    The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk;
    And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful
    Conserved of maidens' hearts.

DESDEMONA    Indeed! is't true?

OTHELLO    Most veritable; therefore look to't well.

DESDEMONA    Then would to God that I had never seen't!

OTHELLO    Ha! wherefore?

DESDEMONA    Why do you speak so startingly and rash?

OTHELLO    Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out
    o' the way?

DESDEMONA    Heaven bless us!

OTHELLO    Say you?

DESDEMONA    It is not lost; but what an if it were?

OTHELLO    How!

DESDEMONA    I say, it is not lost.

OTHELLO    Fetch't, let me see't.

DESDEMONA    Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.
    This is a trick to put me from my suit:
    Pray you, let Cassio be received again.

OTHELLO    Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives.

DESDEMONA    Come, come;
    You'll never meet a more sufficient man.

OTHELLO    The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA                      I pray, talk me of Cassio.

OTHELLO    The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA                      A man that all his time
    Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,
    Shared dangers with you,--

OTHELLO    The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA    In sooth, you are to blame.

OTHELLO    Away!

    [Exit]

EMILIA    Is not this man jealous?

DESDEMONA    I ne'er saw this before.
    Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
    I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

EMILIA    'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:
    They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
    To eat us hungerly, and when they are full,
    They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband!

    [Enter CASSIO and IAGO]

IAGO    There is no other way; 'tis she must do't:
    And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her.

DESDEMONA    How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you?

CASSIO    Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you
    That by your virtuous means I may again
    Exist, and be a member of his love
    Whom I with all the office of my heart
    Entirely honour: I would not be delay'd.
    If my offence be of such mortal kind
    That nor my service past, nor present sorrows,
    Nor purposed merit in futurity,
    Can ransom me into his love again,
    But to know so must be my benefit;
    So shall I clothe me in a forced content,
    And shut myself up in some other course,
    To fortune's alms.

DESDEMONA                      Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio!
    My advocation is not now in tune;
    My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him,
    Were he in favour as in humour alter'd.
    So help me every spirit sanctified,
    As I have spoken for you all my best
    And stood within the blank of his displeasure
    For my free speech! you must awhile be patient:
    What I can do I will; and more I will
    Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.

IAGO    Is my lord angry?

EMILIA                      He went hence but now,
    And certainly in strange unquietness.

IAGO    Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon,
    When it hath blown his ranks into the air,
    And, like the devil, from his very arm
    Puff'd his own brother:--and can he be angry?
    Something of moment then: I will go meet him:
    There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

DESDEMONA    I prithee, do so.

    [Exit IAGO]

    Something, sure, of state,
    Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practise
    Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
    Hath puddled his clear spirit: and in such cases
    Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
    Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so;
    For let our finger ache, and it indues
    Our other healthful members even to that sense
    Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods,
    Nor of them look for such observances
    As fit the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,
    I was, unhandsome warrior as I am,
    Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;
    But now I find I had suborn'd the witness,
    And he's indicted falsely.

EMILIA    Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think,
    And no conception nor no jealous toy
    Concerning you.

DESDEMONA    Alas the day! I never gave him cause.

EMILIA    But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
    They are not ever jealous for the cause,
    But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster
    Begot upon itself, born on itself.

DESDEMONA    Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind!

EMILIA    Lady, amen.

DESDEMONA    I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout:
    If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit
    And seek to effect it to my uttermost.

CASSIO    I humbly thank your ladyship.

    [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

    [Enter BIANCA]

BIANCA    Save you, friend Cassio!

CASSIO    What make you from home?
    How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
    I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.

BIANCA    And I was going to your lodging, Cassio.
    What, keep a week away? seven days and nights?
    Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,
    More tedious than the dial eight score times?
    O weary reckoning!

CASSIO                      Pardon me, Bianca:
    I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd:
    But I shall, in a more continuate time,
    Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,

    [Giving her DESDEMONA's handkerchief]

    Take me this work out.

BIANCA    O Cassio, whence came this?
    This is some token from a newer friend:
    To the felt absence now I feel a cause:
    Is't come to this? Well, well.

CASSIO    Go to, woman!
    Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
    From whence you have them. You are jealous now
    That this is from some mistress, some remembrance:
    No, in good troth, Bianca.

BIANCA    Why, whose is it?

CASSIO    I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber.
    I like the work well: ere it be demanded--
    As like enough it will--I'ld have it copied:
    Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time.

BIANCA    Leave you! wherefore?

CASSIO    I do attend here on the general;
    And think it no addition, nor my wish,
    To have him see me woman'd.

BIANCA    Why, I pray you?

CASSIO    Not that I love you not.

BIANCA    But that you do not love me.
    I pray you, bring me on the way a little,
    And say if I shall see you soon at night.

CASSIO    'Tis but a little way that I can bring you;
    For I attend here: but I'll see you soon.

BIANCA    'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced.

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT IV



SCENE I    Cyprus. Before the castle.


    [Enter OTHELLO and IAGO]

IAGO    Will you think so?

OTHELLO                      Think so, Iago!

IAGO    What,
    To kiss in private?

OTHELLO    An unauthorized kiss.

IAGO    Or to be naked with her friend in bed
    An hour or more, not meaning any harm?

OTHELLO    Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm!
    It is hypocrisy against the devil:
    They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,
    The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.

IAGO    So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip:
    But if I give my wife a handkerchief,--

OTHELLO    What then?

IAGO    Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers,
    She may, I think, bestow't on any man.

OTHELLO    She is protectress of her honour too:
    May she give that?

IAGO    Her honour is an essence that's not seen;
    They have it very oft that have it not:
    But, for the handkerchief,--

OTHELLO    By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it.
    Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory,
    As doth the raven o'er the infected house,
    Boding to all--he had my handkerchief.

IAGO    Ay, what of that?

OTHELLO                      That's not so good now.

IAGO    What,
    If I had said I had seen him do you wrong?
    Or heard him say,--as knaves be such abroad,
    Who having, by their own importunate suit,
    Or voluntary dotage of some mistress,
    Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose
    But they must blab--

OTHELLO    Hath he said any thing?

IAGO    He hath, my lord; but be you well assured,
    No more than he'll unswear.

OTHELLO    What hath he said?

IAGO    'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did.

OTHELLO    What? what?

IAGO    Lie--

OTHELLO        With her?

IAGO    With her, on her; what you will.

OTHELLO    Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when
    they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome.
    --Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief!--To
    confess, and be hanged for his labour;--first, to be
    hanged, and then to confess.--I tremble at it.
    Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing
    passion without some instruction. It is not words
    that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips.
    --Is't possible?--Confess--handkerchief!--O devil!--

    [Falls in a trance]

IAGO    Work on,
    My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught;
    And many worthy and chaste dames even thus,
    All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord!
    My lord, I say! Othello!

    [Enter CASSIO]

            How now, Cassio!

CASSIO    What's the matter?

IAGO    My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy:
    This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.

CASSIO    Rub him about the temples.

IAGO    No, forbear;
    The lethargy must have his quiet course:
    If not, he foams at mouth and by and by
    Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs:
    Do you withdraw yourself a little while,
    He will recover straight: when he is gone,
    I would on great occasion speak with you.

    [Exit CASSIO]

    How is it, general? have you not hurt your head?

OTHELLO    Dost thou mock me?

IAGO                      I mock you! no, by heaven.
    Would you would bear your fortune like a man!

OTHELLO    A horned man's a monster and a beast.

IAGO    There's many a beast then in a populous city,
    And many a civil monster.

OTHELLO    Did he confess it?

IAGO                      Good sir, be a man;
    Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked
    May draw with you: there's millions now alive
    That nightly lie in those unproper beds
    Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better.
    O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
    To lip a wanton in a secure couch,
    And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know;
    And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.

OTHELLO    O, thou art wise; 'tis certain.

IAGO    Stand you awhile apart;
    Confine yourself but in a patient list.
    Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief--
    A passion most unsuiting such a man--
    Cassio came hither: I shifted him away,
    And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy,
    Bade him anon return and here speak with me;
    The which he promised. Do but encave yourself,
    And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns,
    That dwell in every region of his face;
    For I will make him tell the tale anew,
    Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
    He hath, and is again to cope your wife:
    I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience;
    Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen,
    And nothing of a man.

OTHELLO    Dost thou hear, Iago?
    I will be found most cunning in my patience;
    But--dost thou hear?--most bloody.

IAGO    That's not amiss;
    But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw?

    [OTHELLO retires]

    Now will I question Cassio of Bianca,
    A housewife that by selling her desires
    Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature
    That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague
    To beguile many and be beguiled by one:
    He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain
    From the excess of laughter. Here he comes:

    [Re-enter CASSIO]

    As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad;
    And his unbookish jealousy must construe
    Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures and light behavior,
    Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant?

CASSIO    The worser that you give me the addition
    Whose want even kills me.

IAGO    Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't.

    [Speaking lower]

    Now, if this suit lay in Bianco's power,
    How quickly should you speed!

CASSIO    Alas, poor caitiff!

OTHELLO    Look, how he laughs already!

IAGO    I never knew woman love man so.

CASSIO    Alas, poor rogue! I think, i' faith, she loves me.

OTHELLO    Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out.

IAGO    Do you hear, Cassio?

OTHELLO    Now he importunes him
    To tell it o'er: go to; well said, well said.

IAGO    She gives it out that you shall marry hey:
    Do you intend it?

CASSIO    Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO    Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph?

CASSIO    I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some
    charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome.
    Ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO    So, so, so, so: they laugh that win.

IAGO    'Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her.

CASSIO    Prithee, say true.

IAGO    I am a very villain else.

OTHELLO    Have you scored me? Well.

CASSIO    This is the monkey's own giving out: she is
    persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and
    flattery, not out of my promise.

OTHELLO    Iago beckons me; now he begins the story.

CASSIO    She was here even now; she haunts me in every place.
    I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with
    certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble,
    and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck--

OTHELLO    Crying 'O dear Cassio!' as it were: his gesture
    imports it.

CASSIO    So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales,
    and pulls me: ha, ha, ha!

OTHELLO    Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O,
    I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall
    throw it to.

CASSIO    Well, I must leave her company.

IAGO    Before me! look, where she comes.

CASSIO    'Tis such another fitchew! marry a perfumed one.

    [Enter BIANCA]

    What do you mean by this haunting of me?

BIANCA    Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you
    mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now?
    I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the
    work?--A likely piece of work, that you should find
    it in your chamber, and not know who left it there!
    This is some minx's token, and I must take out the
    work? There; give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever
    you had it, I'll take out no work on't.

CASSIO    How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now!

OTHELLO    By heaven, that should be my handkerchief!

BIANCA    An you'll come to supper to-night, you may; an you
    will not, come when you are next prepared for.

    [Exit]

IAGO    After her, after her.

CASSIO    'Faith, I must; she'll rail in the street else.

IAGO    Will you sup there?

CASSIO    'Faith, I intend so.

IAGO    Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very fain
    speak with you.

CASSIO    Prithee, come; will you?

IAGO    Go to; say no more.

    [Exit CASSIO]

OTHELLO    [Advancing]  How shall I murder him, Iago?

IAGO    Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice?

OTHELLO    O Iago!

IAGO    And did you see the handkerchief?

OTHELLO    Was that mine?

IAGO    Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the
    foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he
    hath given it his whore.

OTHELLO    I would have him nine years a-killing.
    A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!

IAGO    Nay, you must forget that.

OTHELLO    Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night;
    for she shall not live: no, my heart is turned to
    stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the
    world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by
    an emperor's side and command him tasks.

IAGO    Nay, that's not your way.

OTHELLO    Hang her! I do but say what she is: so delicate
    with her needle: an admirable musician: O! she
    will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high
    and plenteous wit and invention:--

IAGO    She's the worse for all this.

OTHELLO    O, a thousand thousand times: and then, of so
    gentle a condition!

IAGO    Ay, too gentle.

OTHELLO    Nay, that's certain: but yet the pity of it, Iago!
    O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!

IAGO    If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her
    patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes
    near nobody.

OTHELLO    I will chop her into messes: cuckold me!

IAGO    O, 'tis foul in her.

OTHELLO    With mine officer!

IAGO    That's fouler.

OTHELLO    Get me some poison, Iago; this night: I'll not
    expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty
    unprovide my mind again: this night, Iago.

IAGO    Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even
    the bed she hath contaminated.

OTHELLO    Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good.

IAGO    And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you
    shall hear more by midnight.

OTHELLO    Excellent good.

    [A trumpet within]

    What trumpet is that same?

IAGO    Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico
    Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him.

    [Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants]

LODOVICO    Save you, worthy general!

OTHELLO    With all my heart, sir.

LODOVICO    The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

    [Gives him a letter]

OTHELLO    I kiss the instrument of their pleasures.

    [Opens the letter, and reads]

DESDEMONA    And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico?

IAGO    I am very glad to see you, signior
    Welcome to Cyprus.

LODOVICO    I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?

IAGO    Lives, sir.

DESDEMONA    Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord
    An unkind breach: but you shall make all well.

OTHELLO    Are you sure of that?

DESDEMONA    My lord?

OTHELLO    [Reads]  'This fail you not to do, as you will--'

LODOVICO    He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
    Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?

DESDEMONA    A most unhappy one: I would do much
    To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio.

OTHELLO    Fire and brimstone!

DESDEMONA    My lord?

OTHELLO           Are you wise?

DESDEMONA    What, is he angry?

LODOVICO                      May be the letter moved him;
    For, as I think, they do command him home,
    Deputing Cassio in his government.

DESDEMONA    Trust me, I am glad on't.

OTHELLO    Indeed!

DESDEMONA    My lord?

OTHELLO    I am glad to see you mad.

DESDEMONA    Why, sweet Othello,--

OTHELLO    [Striking her]  Devil!

DESDEMONA    I have not deserved this.

LODOVICO    My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
    Though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much:
    Make her amends; she weeps.

OTHELLO    O devil, devil!
    If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
    Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
    Out of my sight!

DESDEMONA    I will not stay to offend you.

    [Going]

LODOVICO    Truly, an obedient lady:
    I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

OTHELLO    Mistress!

DESDEMONA            My lord?

OTHELLO    What would you with her, sir?

LODOVICO    Who, I, my lord?

OTHELLO    Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn:
    Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
    And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep;
    And she's obedient, as you say, obedient,
    Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears.
    Concerning this, sir,--O  well-painted passion!--
    I am commanded home. Get you away;
    I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate,
    And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt!

    [Exit DESDEMONA]

    Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight,
    I do entreat that we may sup together:
    You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.--Goats and monkeys!

    [Exit]

LODOVICO    Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
    Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature
    Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue
    The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
    Could neither graze nor pierce?

IAGO    He is much changed.

LODOVICO    Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?

IAGO    He's that he is: I may not breathe my censure
    What he might be: if what he might he is not,
    I would to heaven he were!

LODOVICO    What, strike his wife!

IAGO    'Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew
    That stroke would prove the worst!

LODOVICO    Is it his use?
    Or did the letters work upon his blood,
    And new-create this fault?

IAGO    Alas, alas!
    It is not honesty in me to speak
    What I have seen and known. You shall observe him,
    And his own courses will denote him so
    That I may save my speech: do but go after,
    And mark how he continues.

LODOVICO    I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT IV


SCENE II    A room in the castle.


    [Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA]

OTHELLO    You have seen nothing then?

EMILIA    Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect.

OTHELLO    Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together.

EMILIA    But then I saw no harm, and then I heard
    Each syllable that breath made up between them.

OTHELLO    What, did they never whisper?

EMILIA    Never, my lord.

OTHELLO    Nor send you out o' the way?

EMILIA    Never.

OTHELLO    To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing?

EMILIA    Never, my lord.

OTHELLO    That's strange.

EMILIA    I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest,
    Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other,
    Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom.
    If any wretch have put this in your head,
    Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse!
    For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true,
    There's no man happy; the purest of their wives
    Is foul as slander.

OTHELLO    Bid her come hither: go.

    [Exit EMILIA]

    She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd
    That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore,
    A closet lock and key of villanous secrets
    And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't.

    [Enter DESDEMONA with EMILIA]

DESDEMONA    My lord, what is your will?

OTHELLO    Pray, chuck, come hither.

DESDEMONA    What is your pleasure?

OTHELLO    Let me see your eyes;
    Look in my face.

DESDEMONA                      What horrible fancy's this?

OTHELLO    [To EMILIA]  Some of your function, mistress;
    Leave procreants alone and shut the door;
    Cough, or cry 'hem,' if any body come:
    Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch.

    [Exit EMILIA]

DESDEMONA    Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
    I understand a fury in your words.
    But not the words.

OTHELLO    Why, what art thou?

DESDEMONA    Your wife, my lord; your true
    And loyal wife.

OTHELLO                      Come, swear it, damn thyself
    Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
    Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double damn'd:
    Swear thou art honest.

DESDEMONA    Heaven doth truly know it.

OTHELLO    Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.

DESDEMONA    To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false?

OTHELLO    O Desdemona! away! away! away!

DESDEMONA    Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep?
    Am I the motive of these tears, my lord?
    If haply you my father do suspect
    An instrument of this your calling back,
    Lay not your blame on me: If you have lost him,
    Why, I have lost him too.

OTHELLO    Had it pleased heaven
    To try me with affliction; had they rain'd
    All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head.
    Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips,
    Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes,
    I should have found in some place of my soul
    A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me
    A fixed figure for the time of scorn
    To point his slow unmoving finger at!
    Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
    But there, where I have garner'd up my heart,
    Where either I must live, or bear no life;
    The fountain from the which my current runs,
    Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
    Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads
    To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there,
    Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,--
    Ay, there, look grim as hell!

DESDEMONA    I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.

OTHELLO    O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
    That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
    Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet
    That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst
    ne'er been born!

DESDEMONA    Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

OTHELLO    Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
    Made to write 'whore' upon? What committed!
    Committed! O thou public commoner!
    I should make very forges of my cheeks,
    That would to cinders burn up modesty,
    Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
    Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks,
    The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets
    Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
    And will not hear it. What committed!
    Impudent strumpet!

DESDEMONA                      By heaven, you do me wrong.

OTHELLO    Are you not a strumpet?

DESDEMONA    No, as I am a Christian:
    If to preserve this vessel for my lord
    From any other foul unlawful touch
    Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.

OTHELLO    What, not a whore?

DESDEMONA                      No, as I shall be saved.

OTHELLO    Is't possible?

DESDEMONA                      O, heaven forgive us!

OTHELLO    I cry you mercy, then:
    I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
    That married with Othello.

    [Raising his voice]

             You, mistress,
    That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
    And keep the gate of hell!

    [Re-enter EMILIA]

             You, you, ay, you!
    We have done our course; there's money for your pains:
    I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel.

    [Exit]

EMILIA    Alas, what does this gentleman conceive?
    How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady?

DESDEMONA    'Faith, half asleep.

EMILIA    Good madam, what's the matter with my lord?

DESDEMONA    With who?

EMILIA    Why, with my lord, madam.

DESDEMONA    Who is thy lord?

EMILIA                      He that is yours, sweet lady.

DESDEMONA    I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia;
    I cannot weep; nor answer have I none,
    But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight
    Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember;
    And call thy husband hither.

EMILIA    Here's a change indeed!

    [Exit]

DESDEMONA    'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet.
    How have I been behaved, that he might stick
    The small'st opinion on my least misuse?

    [Re-enter EMILIA with IAGO]

IAGO    What is your pleasure, madam?
    How is't with you?

DESDEMONA    I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes
    Do it with gentle means and easy tasks:
    He might have chid me so; for, in good faith,
    I am a child to chiding.

IAGO    What's the matter, lady?

EMILIA    Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her.
    Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
    As true hearts cannot bear.

DESDEMONA    Am I that name, Iago?

IAGO    What name, fair lady?

DESDEMONA    Such as she says my lord did say I was.

EMILIA    He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink
    Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.

IAGO    Why did he so?

DESDEMONA    I do not know; I am sure I am none such.

IAGO    Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day!

EMILIA    Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
    Her father and her country and her friends,
    To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep?

DESDEMONA    It is my wretched fortune.

IAGO    Beshrew him for't!
    How comes this trick upon him?

DESDEMONA    Nay, heaven doth know.

EMILIA    I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
    Some busy and insinuating rogue,
    Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
    Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else.

IAGO    Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.

DESDEMONA    If any such there be, heaven pardon him!

EMILIA    A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones!
    Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company?
    What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?
    The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave,
    Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
    O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold,
    And put in every honest hand a whip
    To lash the rascals naked through the world
    Even from the east to the west!

IAGO    Speak within door.

EMILIA    O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was
    That turn'd your wit the seamy side without,
    And made you to suspect me with the Moor.

IAGO    You are a fool; go to.

DESDEMONA    O good Iago,
    What shall I do to win my lord again?
    Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,
    I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:
    If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
    Either in discourse of thought or actual deed,
    Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
    Delighted them in any other form;
    Or that I do not yet, and ever did.
    And ever will--though he do shake me off
    To beggarly divorcement--love him dearly,
    Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;
    And his unkindness may defeat my life,
    But never taint my love. I cannot say 'whore:'
    It does abhor me now I speak the word;
    To do the act that might the addition earn
    Not the world's mass of vanity could make me.

IAGO    I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour:
    The business of the state does him offence,
    And he does chide with you.

DESDEMONA    If 'twere no other--

IAGO    'Tis but so, I warrant.

    [Trumpets within]

    Hark, how these instruments summon to supper!
    The messengers of Venice stay the meat;
    Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well.

    [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA]

    [Enter RODERIGO]

    How now, Roderigo!

RODERIGO    I do not find that thou dealest justly with me.

IAGO    What in the contrary?

RODERIGO    Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago;
    and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me
    all conveniency than suppliest me with the least
    advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure
    it, nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what
    already I have foolishly suffered.

IAGO    Will you hear me, Roderigo?

RODERIGO    'Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and
    performances are no kin together.

IAGO    You charge me most unjustly.

RODERIGO    With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of
    my means. The jewels you have had from me to
    deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a
    votarist: you have told me she hath received them
    and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden
    respect and acquaintance, but I find none.

IAGO    Well; go to; very well.

RODERIGO    Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis
    not very well: nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin
    to find myself fobbed in it.

IAGO    Very well.

RODERIGO    I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself
    known to Desdemona: if she will return me my
    jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my
    unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I
    will seek satisfaction of you.

IAGO    You have said now.

RODERIGO    Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing.

IAGO    Why, now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from
    this instant to build on thee a better opinion than
    ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast
    taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I
    protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair.

RODERIGO    It hath not appeared.

IAGO    I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your
    suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But,
    Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I
    have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean
    purpose, courage and valour, this night show it: if
    thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona,
    take me from this world with treachery and devise
    engines for my life.

RODERIGO    Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass?

IAGO    Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice
    to depute Cassio in Othello's place.

RODERIGO    Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona
    return again to Venice.

IAGO    O, no; he goes into Mauritania and takes away with
    him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be
    lingered here by some accident: wherein none can be
    so determinate as the removing of Cassio.

RODERIGO    How do you mean, removing of him?

IAGO    Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place;
    knocking out his brains.

RODERIGO    And that you would have me to do?

IAGO    Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right.
    He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I
    go to him: he knows not yet of his horrorable
    fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which
    I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one,
    you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near
    to second your attempt, and he shall fall between
    us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with
    me; I will show you such a necessity in his death
    that you shall think yourself bound to put it on
    him. It is now high suppertime, and the night grows
    to waste: about it.

RODERIGO    I will hear further reason for this.

IAGO    And you shall be satisfied.

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT IV



SCENE III    Another room In the castle.


    [Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA and
    Attendants]

LODOVICO    I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.

OTHELLO    O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk.

LODOVICO    Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.

DESDEMONA    Your honour is most welcome.

OTHELLO    Will you walk, sir?
    O,--Desdemona,--

DESDEMONA    My lord?

OTHELLO    Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned
    forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done.

DESDEMONA    I will, my lord.

    [Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants]

EMILIA    How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.

DESDEMONA    He says he will return incontinent:
    He hath commanded me to go to bed,
    And bade me to dismiss you.

EMILIA    Dismiss me!

DESDEMONA    It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,.
    Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu:
    We must not now displease him.

EMILIA    I would you had never seen him!

DESDEMONA    So would not I    my love doth so approve him,
    That even his stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns--
    Prithee, unpin me,--have grace and favour in them.

EMILIA    I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.

DESDEMONA    All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
    If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me
    In one of those same sheets.

EMILIA    Come, come you talk.

DESDEMONA    My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:
    She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
    And did forsake her: she had a song of 'willow;'
    An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
    And she died singing it: that song to-night
    Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
    But to go hang my head all at one side,
    And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.

EMILIA    Shall I go fetch your night-gown?

DESDEMONA    No, unpin me here.
    This Lodovico is a proper man.

EMILIA    A very handsome man.

DESDEMONA    He speaks well.

EMILIA    I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot
    to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

DESDEMONA    [Singing]  The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
    Sing all a green willow:
    Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
    Sing willow, willow, willow:
    The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
    Sing willow, willow, willow;
    Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
    Lay by these:--

    [Singing]

    Sing willow, willow, willow;
    Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:--

    [Singing]

    Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
    Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
    Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks?

EMILIA    It's the wind.

DESDEMONA    [Singing]  I call'd my love false love; but what
    said he then?
    Sing willow, willow, willow:
    If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men!
    So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch;
    Doth that bode weeping?

EMILIA    'Tis neither here nor there.

DESDEMONA    I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
    Dost thou in conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,--
    That there be women do abuse their husbands
    In such gross kind?

EMILIA    There be some such, no question.

DESDEMONA    Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA    Why, would not you?

DESDEMONA    No, by this heavenly light!

EMILIA    Nor I neither by this heavenly light;
    I might do't as well i' the dark.

DESDEMONA    Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

EMILIA    The world's a huge thing: it is a great price.
    For a small vice.

DESDEMONA    In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

EMILIA    In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had
    done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a
    joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for
    gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty
    exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would
    not make her husband a cuckold to make him a
    monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.

DESDEMONA    Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
    For the whole world.

EMILIA    Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and
    having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your
    own world, and you might quickly make it right.

DESDEMONA    I do not think there is any such woman.

EMILIA    Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would
    store the world they played for.
    But I do think it is their husbands' faults
    If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties,
    And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
    Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
    Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
    Or scant our former having in despite;
    Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
    Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
    Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell
    And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
    As husbands have. What is it that they do
    When they change us for others? Is it sport?
    I think it is: and doth affection breed it?
    I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs?
    It is so too: and have not we affections,
    Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
    Then let them use us well: else let them know,
    The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

DESDEMONA    Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,
    Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT V



SCENE I    Cyprus. A street.


    [Enter IAGO and RODERIGO]

IAGO    Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:
    Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:
    Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow:
    It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
    And fix most firm thy resolution.

RODERIGO    Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't.

IAGO    Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand.

    [Retires]

RODERIGO    I have no great devotion to the deed;
    And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:
    'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies.

IAGO    I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense,
    And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
    Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
    Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,
    He calls me to a restitution large
    Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,
    As gifts to Desdemona;
    It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
    He hath a daily beauty in his life
    That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
    May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril:
    No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming.

    [Enter CASSIO]

RODERIGO    I know his gait, 'tis he.--Villain, thou diest!

    [Makes a pass at CASSIO]

CASSIO    That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
    But that my coat is better than thou know'st
    I will make proof of thine.

    [Draws, and wounds RODERIGO]

RODERIGO    O, I am slain!

    [IAGO from behind wounds CASSIO in the leg, and exit]

CASSIO    I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder!

    [Falls]

    [Enter OTHELLO]

OTHELLO    The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word.

RODERIGO    O, villain that I am!

OTHELLO    It is even so.

CASSIO    O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!

OTHELLO    'Tis he:--O brave Iago, honest and just,
    That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong!
    Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
    And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come.
    Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
    Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted.

    [Exit]

    [Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO]

CASSIO    What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder!

GRATIANO    'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful.

CASSIO    O, help!

LODOVICO    Hark!

RODERIGO    O wretched villain!

LODOVICO    Two or three groan: it is a heavy night:
    These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe
    To come in to the cry without more help.

RODERIGO    Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.

LODOVICO    Hark!

    [Re-enter IAGO, with a light]

GRATIANO    Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.

IAGO    Who's there? whose noise is this that ones on murder?

LODOVICO    We do not know.

IAGO                      Did not you hear a cry?

CASSIO    Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me!

IAGO    What's the matter?

GRATIANO    This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.

LODOVICO    The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.

IAGO    What are you here that cry so grievously?

CASSIO    Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
    Give me some help.

IAGO    O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?

CASSIO    I think that one of them is hereabout,
    And cannot make away.

IAGO    O treacherous villains!
    What are you there? come in, and give some help.

    [To LODOVICO and GRATIANO]

RODERIGO    O, help me here!

CASSIO    That's one of them.

IAGO    O murderous slave! O villain!

    [Stabs RODERIGO]

RODERIGO    O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!

IAGO    Kill men i' the dark!--Where be these bloody thieves?--
    How silent is this town!--Ho! murder! murder!--
    What may you be? are you of good or evil?

LODOVICO    As you shall prove us, praise us.

IAGO    Signior Lodovico?

LODOVICO    He, sir.

IAGO    I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains.

GRATIANO    Cassio!

IAGO    How is't, brother!

CASSIO    My leg is cut in two.

IAGO    Marry, heaven forbid!
    Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.

    [Enter BIANCA]

BIANCA    What is the matter, ho? who is't that cried?

IAGO    Who is't that cried!

BIANCA    O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio,
    Cassio, Cassio!

IAGO    O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
    Who they should be that have thus many led you?

CASSIO    No.

GRATIANO    I am to find you thus: I have been to seek you.

IAGO    Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair,
    To bear him easily hence!

BIANCA    Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!

IAGO    Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
    To be a party in this injury.
    Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come;
    Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
    Alas my friend and my dear countryman
    Roderigo! no:--yes, sure: O heaven! Roderigo.

GRATIANO    What, of Venice?

IAGO    Even he, sir; did you know him?

GRATIANO    Know him! ay.

IAGO    Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;
    These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
    That so neglected you.

GRATIANO    I am glad to see you.

IAGO    How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!

GRATIANO    Roderigo!

IAGO    He, he 'tis he.

    [A chair brought in]

    O, that's well said; the chair!

GRATIANO    Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
    I'll fetch the general's surgeon.

    [To BIANCA]

                          For you, mistress,
    Save you your labour. He that lies slain
    here, Cassio,
    Was my dear friend: what malice was between you?

CASSIO    None in the world; nor do I know the man.

IAGO    [To BIANCA]  What, look you pale? O, bear him out
    o' the air.

    [CASSIO and RODERIGO are borne off]

    Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
    Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
    Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
    Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her:
    Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak,
    Though tongues were out of use.

    [Enter EMILIA]

EMILIA    'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, husband?

IAGO    Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
    By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped:
    He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

EMILIA    Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!

IAGO    This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
    Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night.

    [To BIANCA]

    What, do you shake at that?

BIANCA    He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.

IAGO    O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.

EMILIA    Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!

BIANCA    I am no strumpet; but of life as honest
    As you that thus abuse me.

EMILIA    As I! foh! fie upon thee!

IAGO    Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd.
    Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.
    Emilia run you to the citadel,
    And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd.
    Will you go on? I pray.

    [Aside]

           This is the night
    That either makes me or fordoes me quite.

    [Exeunt]




    OTHELLO


ACT V



SCENE II    A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep;
    a light burning.


    [Enter OTHELLO]

OTHELLO    It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,--
    Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!--
    It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood;
    Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
    And smooth as monumental alabaster.
    Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
    Put out the light, and then put out the light:
    If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
    I can again thy former light restore,
    Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
    Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
    I know not where is that Promethean heat
    That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose,
    I cannot give it vital growth again.
    It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree.

    [Kissing her]

    Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
    Justice to break her sword! One more, one more.
    Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
    And love thee after. One more, and this the last:
    So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
    But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
    It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.

DESDEMONA    Who's there? Othello?

OTHELLO    Ay. Desdemona.

DESDEMONA    Will you come to bed, my lord?

OTHELLO    Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA    Ay, my lord.

OTHELLO    If you bethink yourself of any crime
    Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
    Solicit for it straight.

DESDEMONA    Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that?

OTHELLO    Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
    I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
    No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.

DESDEMONA    Talk you of killing?

OTHELLO    Ay, I do.

DESDEMONA    Then heaven
    Have mercy on me!

OTHELLO                      Amen, with all my heart!

DESDEMONA    If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.

OTHELLO    Hum!

DESDEMONA    And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then
    When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,
    Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.

OTHELLO    Think on thy sins.

DESDEMONA                      They are loves I bear to you.

OTHELLO    Ay, and for that thou diest.

DESDEMONA    That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
    Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
    Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
    These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
    They do not point on me.

OTHELLO    Peace, and be still!

DESDEMONA    I will so. What's the matter?

OTHELLO    That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee
    Thou gavest to Cassio.

DESDEMONA    No, by my life and soul!
    Send for the man, and ask him.

OTHELLO    Sweet soul, take heed,
    Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.

DESDEMONA    Ay, but not yet to die.

OTHELLO    Yes, presently:
    Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
    For to deny each article with oath
    Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
    That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

DESDEMONA    Then Lord have mercy on me!

OTHELLO    I say, amen.

DESDEMONA    And have you mercy too! I never did
    Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio
    But with such general warranty of heaven
    As I might love: I never gave him token.

OTHELLO    By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand.
    O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart,
    And makest me call what I intend to do
    A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:
    I saw the handkerchief.

DESDEMONA    He found it then;
    I never gave it him: send for him hither;
    Let him confess a truth.

OTHELLO    He hath confess'd.

DESDEMONA    What, my lord?

OTHELLO    That he hath used thee.

DESDEMONA    How? unlawfully?

OTHELLO    Ay.

DESDEMONA    He will not say so.

OTHELLO    No, his mouth is stopp'd;
    Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.

DESDEMONA    O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead?

OTHELLO    Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
    Had stomach for them all.

DESDEMONA    Alas! he is betray'd and I undone.

OTHELLO    Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?

DESDEMONA    O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!

OTHELLO    Down, strumpet!

DESDEMONA    Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night!

OTHELLO    Nay, if you strive--

DESDEMONA    But half an hour!

OTHELLO                      Being done, there is no pause.

DESDEMONA    But while I say one prayer!

OTHELLO    It is too late.

    [He stifles her]

EMILIA    [Within]  My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO    What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
    I that am cruel am yet merciful;
    I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so.

EMILIA    [Within]  What, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO    Who's there?

EMILIA    [Within]  O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!

OTHELLO    Yes: 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead.
    'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.--
    The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
    Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?--
    I think she stirs again:--no. What's best to do?
    If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
    My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.
    O insupportable! O heavy hour!
    Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
    Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
    Should yawn at alteration.

EMILIA    [Within]  I do beseech you
    That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!

OTHELLO    I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia;
    Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw.
    Where art thou?

    [Unlocks the door]

    [Enter EMILIA]

    What's the matter with thee now?

EMILIA    O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!

OTHELLO    What, now?

EMILIA    But now, my lord.

OTHELLO    It is the very error of the moon;
    She comes more nearer earth than she was wont,
    And makes men mad.

EMILIA    Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian
    Call'd Roderigo.

OTHELLO                      Roderigo kill'd!
    And Cassio kill'd!

EMILIA    No, Cassio is not kill'd.

OTHELLO    Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune,
    And sweet revenge grows harsh.

DESDEMONA    O, falsely, falsely murder'd!

EMILIA    Alas, what cry is that?

OTHELLO    That! what?

EMILIA    Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice.
    Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again!
    Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!

DESDEMONA    A guiltless death I die.

EMILIA    O, who hath done this deed?

DESDEMONA    Nobody; I myself. Farewell
    Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!

    [Dies]

OTHELLO    Why, how should she be murder'd?

EMILIA    Alas, who knows?

OTHELLO    You heard her say herself, it was not I.

EMILIA    She said so: I must needs report the truth.

OTHELLO    She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell:
    'Twas I that kill'd her.

EMILIA    O, the more angel she,
    And you the blacker devil!

OTHELLO    She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.

EMILIA    Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.

OTHELLO    She was false as water.

EMILIA    Thou art rash as fire, to say
    That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!

OTHELLO    Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else.
    O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
    But that I did proceed upon just grounds
    To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.

EMILIA    My husband!

OTHELLO    Thy husband.

EMILIA    That she was false to wedlock?

OTHELLO    Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,
    If heaven would make me such another world
    Of one entire and Perfect chrysolite,
    I'ld not have sold her for it.

EMILIA    My husband!

OTHELLO              Ay, 'twas he that told me first:
    An honest man he is, and hates the slime
    That sticks on filthy deeds.

EMILIA    My husband!

OTHELLO    What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband.

EMILIA    O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love,
    My husband say that she was false!

OTHELLO    He, woman;
    I say thy husband: dost understand the word?
    My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

EMILIA    If he say so, may his pernicious soul
    Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart:
    She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

OTHELLO    Ha!

EMILIA    Do thy worst:
    This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
    Than thou wast worthy her.

OTHELLO    Peace, you were best.

EMILIA    Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
    As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!
    As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed--
    I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,
    Though I lost twenty lives.--Help! help, ho! help!
    The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! murder!

    [Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others]

MONTANO    What is the matter? How now, general!

EMILIA    O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
    That men must lay their murders on your neck.

GRATIANO    What is the matter?

EMILIA    Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man:
    He says thou told'st him that his wife was false:
    I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain:
    Speak, for my heart is full.

IAGO    I told him what I thought, and told no more
    Than what he found himself was apt and true.

EMILIA    But did you ever tell him she was false?

IAGO    I did.

EMILIA    You told a lie, an odious, damned lie;
    Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
    She false with Cassio!--did you say with Cassio?

IAGO    With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.

EMILIA    I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak:
    My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed,--

All    O heavens forfend!

EMILIA    And your reports have set the murder on.

OTHELLO    Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed.

GRATIANO    'Tis a strange truth.

MONTANO    O monstrous act!

EMILIA                      Villany, villany, villany!
    I think upon't, I think: I smell't: O villany!--
    I thought so then:--I'll kill myself for grief:--
    O villany, villany!

IAGO    What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.

EMILIA    Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak:

    'Tis proper I obey him, but not now.
    Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.

OTHELLO    O! O! O!

    [He falls on the bed]

EMILIA           Nay, lay thee down and roar;
    For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
    That e'er did lift up eye.

OTHELLO    [Rising]  O, she was foul!
    I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece,
    Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:
    I know this act shows horrible and grim.

GRATIANO    Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead:
    Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
    Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now,
    This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
    Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
    And fall to reprobation.

OTHELLO    'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows
    That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
    A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it:
    And she did gratify his amorous works
    With that recognizance and pledge of love
    Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand:
    It was a handkerchief, an antique token
    My father gave my mother.

EMILIA    O heaven! O heavenly powers!

IAGO    Come, hold your peace.

EMILIA    'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace!
    No, I will speak as liberal as the north:
    Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,
    All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

IAGO    Be wise, and get you home.

EMILIA    I will not.

    [IAGO offers to stab EMILIA]

GRATIANO    Fie!
    Your sword upon a woman?

EMILIA    O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of
    I found by fortune and did give my husband;
    For often, with a solemn earnestness,
    More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,
    He begg'd of me to steal it.

IAGO    Villanous whore!

EMILIA    She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it,
    And I did give't my husband.

IAGO    Filth, thou liest!

EMILIA    By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen.
    O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool
    Do with so good a woman?

OTHELLO    Are there no stones in heaven
    But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain!

    [He runs at IAGO  IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exit]

GRATIANO    The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife.

EMILIA    Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side.

GRATIANO    He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

MONTANO    'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon,
    Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:
    Come, guard the door without; let him not pass,
    But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain,
    For 'tis a damned slave.

    [Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO]

OTHELLO    I am not valiant neither,
    But ever puny whipster gets my sword:
    But why should honour outlive honesty?
    Let it go all.

EMILIA    What did thy song bode, lady?
    Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan.
    And die in music.

    [Singing]

    Willow, willow, willow,--
    Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
    So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
    So speaking as I think, I die, I die.

    [Dies]

OTHELLO    I have another weapon in this chamber;
    It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:--
    O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.

GRATIANO    [Within]  If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear:
    Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

OTHELLO    Look in upon me then and speak with me,
    Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

    [Re-enter GRATIANO]

GRATIANO    What is the matter?

OTHELLO    Behold, I have a weapon;
    A better never did itself sustain
    Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
    That, with this little arm and this good sword,
    I have made my way through more impediments
    Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast!
    Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.
    Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
    Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
    And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
    Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
    Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
    And he retires. Where should Othello go?
    Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
    Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
    This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
    And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl!
    Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave!
    Whip me, ye devils,
    From the possession of this heavenly sight!
    Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
    Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
    O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!
    Oh! Oh! Oh!

    [Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair,
    and Officers with IAGO, prisoner]

LODOVICO    Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

OTHELLO    That's he that was Othello: here I am.

LODOVICO    Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.

OTHELLO    I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable.
    If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee.

    [Wounds IAGO]

LODOVICO    Wrench his sword from him.

IAGO    I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.

OTHELLO    I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live;
    For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

LODOVICO    O thou Othello, thou wert once so good,
    Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave,
    What shall be said to thee?

OTHELLO    Why, any thing:
    An honourable murderer, if you will;
    For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.

LODOVICO    This wretch hath part confess'd his villany:
    Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

OTHELLO    Ay.

CASSIO    Dear general, I never gave you cause.

OTHELLO    I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
    Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
    Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?

IAGO    Demand me nothing: what you know, you know:
    From this time forth I never will speak word.

LODOVICO    What, not to pray?

GRATIANO                      Torments will ope your lips.

OTHELLO    Well, thou dost best.

LODOVICO    Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
    Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter
    Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
    And here another: the one of them imports
    The death of Cassio to be undertook
    By Roderigo.

OTHELLO    O villain!

CASSIO    Most heathenish and most gross!

LODOVICO    Now here's another discontented paper,
    Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
    Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
    But that belike Iago in the interim
    Came in and satisfied him.

OTHELLO    O the pernicious caitiff!
    How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
    That was my wife's?

CASSIO    I found it in my chamber:
    And he himself confess'd but even now
    That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose
    Which wrought to his desire.

OTHELLO    O fool! fool! fool!

CASSIO    There is besides in Roderigo's letter,
    How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
    Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
    That I was cast: and even but now he spake,
    After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him,
    Iago set him on.

LODOVICO    You must forsake this room, and go with us:
    Your power and your command is taken off,
    And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
    If there be any cunning cruelty
    That can torment him much and hold him long,
    It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
    Till that the nature of your fault be known
    To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away.

OTHELLO    Soft you; a word or two before you go.
    I have done the state some service, and they know't.
    No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
    When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
    Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
    Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
    Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
    Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought
    Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
    Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
    Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
    Albeit unused to the melting mood,
    Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
    Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
    And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
    Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
    Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
    I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
    And smote him, thus.

    [Stabs himself]

LODOVICO    O bloody period!

GRATIANO                      All that's spoke is marr'd.

OTHELLO    I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this;
    Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

    [Falls on the bed, and dies]

CASSIO    This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
    For he was great of heart.

LODOVICO    [To IAGO]  O Spartan dog,
    More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
    Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
    This is thy work: the object poisons sight;
    Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
    And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
    For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor,
    Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
    The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it!
    Myself will straight aboard: and to the state
    This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS



    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


TIMON    of Athens.


LUCIUS    |
    |
LUCULLUS    |  flattering lords.
    |
SEMPRONIUS    |


VENTIDIUS    one of Timon's false friends.

ALCIBIADES    an Athenian captain.

APEMANTUS    a churlish philosopher.

FLAVIUS    steward to Timon.

    Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant. (Poet:)
    (Painter:)
    (Jeweller:)
    (Merchant:)

    An old Athenian. (Old Athenian:)


FLAMINIUS    |
    |
LUCILIUS    |  servants to Timon.
    |
SERVILIUS    |


CAPHIS    |
    |
PHILOTUS    |
    |
TITUS    |
    |  servants to Timon's creditors.
LUCIUS    |
    |
HORTENSIUS    |
    |
And others    |


    A Page. (Page:)

    A Fool. (Fool:)

    Three Strangers.
    (First Stranger:)
    (Second Stranger:)
    (Third Stranger:)


PHRYNIA    |
    |  mistresses to Alcibiades.
TIMANDRA    |


    Cupid and Amazons in the mask. (Cupid:)

    Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers,
    Banditti, and Attendants.
    (First Lord:)
    (Second Lord:)
    (Third Lord:)
    (Fourth Lord:)
    (Senator:)
    (First Senator:)
    (Second Senator:)
    (Third Senator:)
    (Soldier:)
    (First Bandit:)
    (Second Bandit:)
    (Third Bandit:)
    (Messenger:)
    (Servant:)
    (First Servant:)
    (Second Servant:)
    (Third Servant:)
    (Varro's First Servant:)
    (Varro's Second Servant:)
    (Lucilius' Servant:)


SCENE    Athens, and the neighbouring woods.




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT I



SCENE I    Athens. A hall in Timon's house.


    [Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and
    others, at several doors]

Poet    Good day, sir.

Painter                      I am glad you're well.

Poet    I have not seen you long: how goes the world?

Painter    It wears, sir, as it grows.

Poet    Ay, that's well known:
    But what particular rarity? what strange,
    Which manifold record not matches? See,
    Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
    Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.

Painter    I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.

Merchant    O, 'tis a worthy lord.

Jeweller    Nay, that's most fix'd.

Merchant    A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,
    To an untirable and continuate goodness:
    He passes.

Jeweller:    I have a jewel here--

Merchant    O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?

Jeweller:    If he will touch the estimate: but, for that--

Poet    [Reciting to himself]  'When we for recompense have
    praised the vile,
    It stains the glory in that happy verse
    Which aptly sings the good.'

Merchant    'Tis a good form.

    [Looking at the jewel]

Jeweller    And rich: here is a water, look ye.

Painter    You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
    To the great lord.

Poet                      A thing slipp'd idly from me.
    Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
    From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint
    Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
    Provokes itself and like the current flies
    Each bound it chafes. What have you there?

Painter    A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?

Poet    Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
    Let's see your piece.

Painter    'Tis a good piece.

Poet    So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.

Painter    Indifferent.

Poet                      Admirable: how this grace
    Speaks his own standing! what a mental power
    This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
    Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture
    One might interpret.

Painter    It is a pretty mocking of the life.
    Here is a touch; is't good?

Poet    I will say of it,
    It tutors nature: artificial strife
    Lives in these touches, livelier than life.

    [Enter certain Senators, and pass over]

Painter    How this lord is follow'd!

Poet    The senators of Athens: happy man!

Painter    Look, more!

Poet    You see this confluence, this great flood
    of visitors.
    I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man,
    Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
    With amplest entertainment: my free drift
    Halts not particularly, but moves itself
    In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
    Infects one comma in the course I hold;
    But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
    Leaving no tract behind.

Painter    How shall I understand you?

Poet    I will unbolt to you.
    You see how all conditions, how all minds,
    As well of glib and slippery creatures as
    Of grave and austere quality, tender down
    Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune
    Upon his good and gracious nature hanging
    Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
    All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer
    To Apemantus, that few things loves better
    Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
    The knee before him, and returns in peace
    Most rich in Timon's nod.

Painter    I saw them speak together.

Poet    Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill
    Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount
    Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
    That labour on the bosom of this sphere
    To propagate their states: amongst them all,
    Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
    One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame,
    Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
    Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
    Translates his rivals.

Painter    'Tis conceived to scope.
    This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
    With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
    Bowing his head against the sleepy mount
    To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
    In our condition.

Poet                      Nay, sir, but hear me on.
    All those which were his fellows but of late,
    Some better than his value, on the moment
    Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
    Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,
    Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
    Drink the free air.

Painter    Ay, marry, what of these?

Poet    When Fortune in her shift and change of mood
    Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants
    Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top
    Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
    Not one accompanying his declining foot.

Painter    'Tis common:
    A thousand moral paintings I can show
    That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's
    More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well
    To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen
    The foot above the head.

    [Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, addressing himself
    courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from
    VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other
    servants following]

TIMON    Imprison'd is he, say you?

Messenger    Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt,
    His means most short, his creditors most strait:
    Your honourable letter he desires
    To those have shut him up; which failing,
    Periods his comfort.

TIMON    Noble Ventidius! Well;
    I am not of that feather to shake off
    My friend when he must need me. I do know him
    A gentleman that well deserves a help:
    Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt,
    and free him.

Messenger    Your lordship ever binds him.

TIMON    Commend me to him: I will send his ransom;
    And being enfranchised, bid him come to me.
    'Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
    But to support him after. Fare you well.

Messenger    All happiness to your honour!

    [Exit]

    [Enter an old Athenian]

Old Athenian    Lord Timon, hear me speak.

TIMON    Freely, good father.

Old Athenian    Thou hast a servant named Lucilius.

TIMON    I have so: what of him?

Old Athenian    Most noble Timon, call the man before thee.

TIMON    Attends he here, or no? Lucilius!

LUCILIUS    Here, at your lordship's service.

Old Athenian    This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature,
    By night frequents my house. I am a man
    That from my first have been inclined to thrift;
    And my estate deserves an heir more raised
    Than one which holds a trencher.

TIMON    Well; what further?

Old Athenian    One only daughter have I, no kin else,
    On whom I may confer what I have got:
    The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride,
    And I have bred her at my dearest cost
    In qualities of the best. This man of thine
    Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord,
    Join with me to forbid him her resort;
    Myself have spoke in vain.

TIMON    The man is honest.

Old Athenian    Therefore he will be, Timon:
    His honesty rewards him in itself;
    It must not bear my daughter.

TIMON    Does she love him?

Old Athenian    She is young and apt:
    Our own precedent passions do instruct us
    What levity's in youth.

TIMON    [To LUCILIUS]           Love you the maid?

LUCILIUS    Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it.

Old Athenian    If in her marriage my consent be missing,
    I call the gods to witness, I will choose
    Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
    And dispossess her all.

TIMON    How shall she be endow'd,
    if she be mated with an equal husband?

Old Athenian    Three talents on the present; in future, all.

TIMON    This gentleman of mine hath served me long:
    To build his fortune I will strain a little,
    For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter:
    What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
    And make him weigh with her.

Old Athenian    Most noble lord,
    Pawn me to this your honour, she is his.

TIMON    My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise.

LUCILIUS    Humbly I thank your lordship: never may
    The state or fortune fall into my keeping,
    Which is not owed to you!

    [Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian]

Poet    Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship!

TIMON    I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:
    Go not away. What have you there, my friend?

Painter    A piece of painting, which I do beseech
    Your lordship to accept.

TIMON    Painting is welcome.
    The painting is almost the natural man;
    or since dishonour traffics with man's nature,
    He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are
    Even such as they give out. I like your work;
    And you shall find I like it: wait attendance
    Till you hear further from me.

Painter    The gods preserve ye!

TIMON    Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand;
    We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel
    Hath suffer'd under praise.

Jeweller    What, my lord! dispraise?

TIMON    A more satiety of commendations.
    If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd,
    It would unclew me quite.

Jeweller    My lord, 'tis rated
    As those which sell would give: but you well know,
    Things of like value differing in the owners
    Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord,
    You mend the jewel by the wearing it.

TIMON    Well mock'd.

Merchant    No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue,
    Which all men speak with him.

TIMON    Look, who comes here: will you be chid?

    [Enter APEMANTUS]

Jeweller: We'll bear, with your lordship.

Merchant    He'll spare none.

TIMON    Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!

APEMANTUS    Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;
    When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest.

TIMON    Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not.

APEMANTUS    Are they not Athenians?

TIMON    Yes.

APEMANTUS    Then I repent not.

Jeweller: You know me, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    Thou know'st I do: I call'd thee by thy name.

TIMON    Thou art proud, Apemantus.

APEMANTUS    Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon.

TIMON    Whither art going?

APEMANTUS    To knock out an honest Athenian's brains.

TIMON    That's a deed thou'lt die for.

APEMANTUS    Right, if doing nothing be death by the law.

TIMON    How likest thou this picture, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    The best, for the innocence.

TIMON    Wrought he not well that painted it?

APEMANTUS    He wrought better that made the painter; and yet
    he's but a filthy piece of work.

Painter    You're a dog.

APEMANTUS    Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog?

TIMON    Wilt dine with me, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    No; I eat not lords.

TIMON    An thou shouldst, thou 'ldst anger ladies.

APEMANTUS    O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies.

TIMON    That's a lascivious apprehension.

APEMANTUS    So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour.

TIMON    How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a
    man a doit.

TIMON    What dost thou think 'tis worth?

APEMANTUS    Not worth my thinking. How now, poet!

Poet    How now, philosopher!

APEMANTUS    Thou liest.

Poet    Art not one?

APEMANTUS    Yes.

Poet    Then I lie not.

APEMANTUS    Art not a poet?

Poet    Yes.

APEMANTUS    Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou
    hast feigned him a worthy fellow.

Poet    That's not feigned; he is so.

APEMANTUS    Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy
    labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o'
    the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!

TIMON    What wouldst do then, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    E'en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart.

TIMON    What, thyself?

APEMANTUS    Ay.

TIMON    Wherefore?

APEMANTUS    That I had no angry wit to be a lord.
    Art not thou a merchant?

Merchant    Ay, Apemantus.

APEMANTUS    Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not!

Merchant    If traffic do it, the gods do it.

APEMANTUS    Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee!

    [Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger]

TIMON    What trumpet's that?

Messenger    'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse,
    All of companionship.

TIMON    Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.

    [Exeunt some Attendants]

    You must needs dine with me: go not you hence
    Till I have thank'd you: when dinner's done,
    Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights.

    [Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest]

    Most welcome, sir!

APEMANTUS                      So, so, there!
    Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
    That there should be small love 'mongst these
    sweet knaves,
    And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out
    Into baboon and monkey.

ALCIBIADES    Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed
    Most hungerly on your sight.

TIMON    Right welcome, sir!
    Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time
    In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in.

    [Exeunt all except APEMANTUS]

    [Enter two Lords]

First Lord    What time o' day is't, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    Time to be honest.

First Lord    That time serves still.

APEMANTUS    The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it.

Second Lord    Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast?

APEMANTUS    Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools.

Second Lord    Fare thee well, fare thee well.

APEMANTUS    Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice.

Second Lord    Why, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to
    give thee none.

First Lord    Hang thyself!

APEMANTUS    No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy
    requests to thy friend.

Second Lord    Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence!

APEMANTUS    I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass.

    [Exit]

First Lord    He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in,
    And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes
    The very heart of kindness.

Second Lord    He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold,
    Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays
    Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him,
    But breeds the giver a return exceeding
    All use of quittance.

First Lord    The noblest mind he carries
    That ever govern'd man.

Second Lord    Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in?

First Lord    I'll keep you company.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT I



SCENE II    A banqueting-room in Timon's house.


    [Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet
    served in; FLAVIUS and others attending; then enter
    TIMON, ALCIBIADES, Lords, Senators, and VENTIDIUS.
    Then comes, dropping, after all, APEMANTUS,
    discontentedly, like himself]

VENTIDIUS    Most honour'd Timon,
    It hath pleased the gods to remember my father's age,
    And call him to long peace.
    He is gone happy, and has left me rich:
    Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound
    To your free heart, I do return those talents,
    Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help
    I derived liberty.

TIMON                      O, by no means,
    Honest Ventidius; you mistake my love:
    I gave it freely ever; and there's none
    Can truly say he gives, if he receives:
    If our betters play at that game, we must not dare
    To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair.

VENTIDIUS    A noble spirit!

TIMON                      Nay, my lords,

    [They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON]

    Ceremony was but devised at first
    To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes,
    Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown;
    But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
    Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes
    Than my fortunes to me.

    [They sit]

First Lord    My lord, we always have confess'd it.

APEMANTUS    Ho, ho, confess'd it! hang'd it, have you not?

TIMON    O, Apemantus, you are welcome.

APEMANTUS    No;
    You shall not make me welcome:
    I come to have thee thrust me out of doors.

TIMON    Fie, thou'rt a churl; ye've got a humour there
    Does not become a man: 'tis much to blame.
    They say, my lords, 'ira furor brevis est;' but yond
    man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by
    himself, for he does neither affect company, nor is
    he fit for't, indeed.

APEMANTUS    Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon: I come to
    observe; I give thee warning on't.

TIMON    I take no heed of thee; thou'rt an Athenian,
    therefore welcome: I myself would have no power;
    prithee, let my meat make thee silent.

APEMANTUS    I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should
    ne'er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of
    men eat Timon, and he sees 'em not! It grieves me
    to see so many dip their meat in one man's blood;
    and all the madness is, he cheers them up too.
    I wonder men dare trust themselves with men:
    Methinks they should invite them without knives;
    Good for their meat, and safer for their lives.
    There's much example for't; the fellow that sits
    next him now, parts bread with him, pledges the
    breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest
    man to kill him: 't has been proved. If I were a
    huge man, I should fear to drink at meals;
    Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes:
    Great men should drink with harness on their throats.

TIMON    My lord, in heart; and let the health go round.

Second Lord    Let it flow this way, my good lord.

APEMANTUS    Flow this way! A brave fellow! he keeps his tides
    well. Those healths will make thee and thy state
    look ill, Timon. Here's that which is too weak to
    be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire:
    This and my food are equals; there's no odds:
    Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods.

    Apemantus' grace.

    Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;
    I pray for no man but myself:
    Grant I may never prove so fond,
    To trust man on his oath or bond;
    Or a harlot, for her weeping;
    Or a dog, that seems a-sleeping:
    Or a keeper with my freedom;
    Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
    Amen. So fall to't:
    Rich men sin, and I eat root.

    [Eats and drinks]

    Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus!

TIMON    Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now.

ALCIBIADES    My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

TIMON    You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a
    dinner of friends.

ALCIBIADES    So the were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat
    like 'em: I could wish my best friend at such a feast.

APEMANTUS    Would all those fatterers were thine enemies then,
    that then thou mightst kill 'em and bid me to 'em!

First Lord    Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you
    would once use our hearts, whereby we might express
    some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves
    for ever perfect.

TIMON    O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods
    themselves have provided that I shall have much help
    from you: how had you been my friends else? why
    have you that charitable title from thousands, did
    not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told
    more of you to myself than you can with modesty
    speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm
    you. O you gods, think I, what need we have any
    friends, if we should ne'er have need of 'em? they
    were the most needless creatures living, should we
    ne'er have use for 'em, and would most resemble
    sweet instruments hung up in cases that keep their
    sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished
    myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We
    are born to do benefits: and what better or
    properer can we can our own than the riches of our
    friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have
    so many, like brothers, commanding one another's
    fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere 't can be born!
    Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to
    forget their faults, I drink to you.

APEMANTUS    Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon.

Second Lord    Joy had the like conception in our eyes
    And at that instant like a babe sprung up.

APEMANTUS    Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard.

Third Lord    I promise you, my lord, you moved me much.

APEMANTUS    Much!

    [Tucket, within]

TIMON    What means that trump?

    [Enter a Servant]

         How now?

Servant    Please you, my lord, there are certain
    ladies most desirous of admittance.

TIMON    Ladies! what are their wills?

Servant    There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which
    bears that office, to signify their pleasures.

TIMON    I pray, let them be admitted.

    [Enter Cupid]

Cupid    Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all
    That of his bounties taste! The five best senses
    Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely
    To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: th' ear,
    Taste, touch and smell, pleased from thy tale rise;
    They only now come but to feast thine eyes.

TIMON    They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance:
    Music, make their welcome!

    [Exit Cupid]

First Lord    You see, my lord, how ample you're beloved.

    [Music. Re-enter Cupid with a mask of Ladies
    as Amazons, with lutes in their hands,
    dancing and playing]

APEMANTUS    Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way!
    They dance! they are mad women.
    Like madness is the glory of this life.
    As this pomp shows to a little oil and root.
    We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves;
    And spend our flatteries, to drink those men
    Upon whose age we void it up again,
    With poisonous spite and envy.
    Who lives that's not depraved or depraves?
    Who dies, that bears not one spurn to their graves
    Of their friends' gift?
    I should fear those that dance before me now
    Would one day stamp upon me: 't has been done;
    Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

    [The Lords rise from table, with much adoring of
    TIMON; and to show their loves, each singles out an
    Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty
    strain or two to the hautboys, and cease]

TIMON    You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies,
    Set a fair fashion on our entertainment,
    Which was not half so beautiful and kind;
    You have added worth unto 't and lustre,
    And entertain'd me with mine own device;
    I am to thank you for 't.

First Lady    My lord, you take us even at the best.

APEMANTUS    'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not hold
    taking, I doubt me.

TIMON    Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you:
    Please you to dispose yourselves.

All Ladies    Most thankfully, my lord.

    [Exeunt Cupid and Ladies]

TIMON    Flavius.

FLAVIUS    My lord?

TIMON           The little casket bring me hither.

FLAVIUS    Yes, my lord. More jewels yet!
    There is no crossing him in 's humour;

    [Aside]

    Else I should tell him,--well, i' faith I should,
    When all's spent, he 'ld be cross'd then, an he could.
    'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind,
    That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.

    [Exit]

First Lord    Where be our men?

Servant    Here, my lord, in readiness.

Second Lord    Our horses!

    [Re-enter FLAVIUS, with the casket]

TIMON              O my friends,
    I have one word to say to you: look you, my good lord,
    I must entreat you, honour me so much
    As to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it,
    Kind my lord.

First Lord    I am so far already in your gifts,--

All    So are we all.

    [Enter a Servant]

Servant    My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate
    Newly alighted, and come to visit you.

TIMON    They are fairly welcome.

FLAVIUS    I beseech your honour,
    Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near.

TIMON    Near! why then, another time I'll hear thee:
    I prithee, let's be provided to show them
    entertainment.

FLAVIUS    [Aside]  I scarce know how.

    [Enter a Second Servant]

Second Servant    May it please your honour, Lord Lucius,
    Out of his free love, hath presented to you
    Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver.

TIMON    I shall accept them fairly; let the presents
    Be worthily entertain'd.

    [Enter a third Servant]

           How now! what news?

Third Servant    Please you, my lord, that honourable
    gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company
    to-morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour
    two brace of greyhounds.

TIMON    I'll hunt with him; and let them be received,
    Not without fair reward.

FLAVIUS    [Aside]                What will this come to?
    He commands us to provide, and give great gifts,
    And all out of an empty coffer:
    Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this,
    To show him what a beggar his heart is,
    Being of no power to make his wishes good:
    His promises fly so beyond his state
    That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes
    For every word: he is so kind that he now
    Pays interest for 't; his land's put to their books.
    Well, would I were gently put out of office
    Before I were forced out!
    Happier is he that has no friend to feed
    Than such that do e'en enemies exceed.
    I bleed inwardly for my lord.

    [Exit]

TIMON    You do yourselves
    Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits:
    Here, my lord, a trifle of our love.

Second Lord    With more than common thanks I will receive it.

Third Lord    O, he's the very soul of bounty!

TIMON    And now I remember, my lord, you gave
    Good words the other day of a bay courser
    I rode on: it is yours, because you liked it.

Second Lord    O, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that.

TIMON    You may take my word, my lord; I know, no man
    Can justly praise but what he does affect:
    I weigh my friend's affection with mine own;
    I'll tell you true. I'll call to you.

All Lords    O, none so welcome.

TIMON    I take all and your several visitations
    So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give;
    Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends,
    And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades,
    Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich;
    It comes in charity to thee: for all thy living
    Is 'mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast
    Lie in a pitch'd field.

ALCIBIADES    Ay, defiled land, my lord.

First Lord    We are so virtuously bound--

TIMON    And so
    Am I to you.

Second Lord    So infinitely endear'd--

TIMON    All to you. Lights, more lights!

First Lord    The best of happiness,
    Honour and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon!

TIMON    Ready for his friends.

    [Exeunt all but APEMANTUS and TIMON]

APEMANTUS    What a coil's here!
    Serving of becks and jutting-out of bums!
    I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums
    That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs:
    Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs,
    Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies.

TIMON    Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I would be
    good to thee.

APEMANTUS    No, I'll nothing: for if I should be bribed too,
    there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then
    thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou givest so long,
    Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in
    paper shortly: what need these feasts, pomps and
    vain-glories?

TIMON    Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am
    sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come
    with better music.

    [Exit]

APEMANTUS    So:
    Thou wilt not hear me now; thou shalt not then:
    I'll lock thy heaven from thee.
    O, that men's ears should be
    To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!

    [Exit]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT II



SCENE I    A Senator's house.


    [Enter Senator, with papers in his hand]

Senator    And late, five thousand: to Varro and to Isidore
    He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum,
    Which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion
    Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not.
    If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog,
    And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold.
    If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more
    Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon,
    Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight,
    And able horses. No porter at his gate,
    But rather one that smiles and still invites
    All that pass by. It cannot hold: no reason
    Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho!
    Caphis, I say!

    [Enter CAPHIS]

CAPHIS    Here, sir; what is your pleasure?

Senator    Get on your cloak, and haste you to Lord Timon;
    Importune him for my moneys; be not ceased
    With slight denial, nor then silenced when--
    'Commend me to your master'--and the cap
    Plays in the right hand, thus: but tell him,
    My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn
    Out of mine own; his days and times are past
    And my reliances on his fracted dates
    Have smit my credit: I love and honour him,
    But must not break my back to heal his finger;
    Immediate are my needs, and my relief
    Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words,
    But find supply immediate. Get you gone:
    Put on a most importunate aspect,
    A visage of demand; for, I do fear,
    When every feather sticks in his own wing,
    Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,
    Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.

CAPHIS    I go, sir.

Senator    'I go, sir!'--Take the bonds along with you,
    And have the dates in contempt.

CAPHIS    I will, sir.

Senator    Go.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT II



SCENE II    The same. A hall in Timon's house.


    [Enter FLAVIUS, with many bills in his hand]

FLAVIUS    No care, no stop! so senseless of expense,
    That he will neither know how to maintain it,
    Nor cease his flow of riot: takes no account
    How things go from him, nor resumes no care
    Of what is to continue: never mind
    Was to be so unwise, to be so kind.
    What shall be done? he will not hear, till feel:
    I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting.
    Fie, fie, fie, fie!

    [Enter CAPHIS, and the Servants of Isidore and Varro]

CAPHIS    Good even, Varro: what,
    You come for money?

Varro's Servant    Is't not your business too?

CAPHIS    It is: and yours too, Isidore?

Isidore's Servant    It is so.

CAPHIS    Would we were all discharged!

Varro's Servant    I fear it.

CAPHIS    Here comes the lord.

    [Enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, and Lords, &c]

TIMON    So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again,
    My Alcibiades. With me? what is your will?

CAPHIS    My lord, here is a note of certain dues.

TIMON    Dues! Whence are you?

CAPHIS    Of Athens here, my lord.

TIMON    Go to my steward.

CAPHIS    Please it your lordship, he hath put me off
    To the succession of new days this month:
    My master is awaked by great occasion
    To call upon his own, and humbly prays you
    That with your other noble parts you'll suit
    In giving him his right.

TIMON    Mine honest friend,
    I prithee, but repair to me next morning.

CAPHIS    Nay, good my lord,--

TIMON    Contain thyself, good friend.

Varro's Servant    One Varro's servant, my good lord,--

Isidore's Servant    From Isidore;
    He humbly prays your speedy payment.

CAPHIS    If you did know, my lord, my master's wants--

Varro's Servant    'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks And past.

Isidore's Servant             Your steward puts me off, my lord;
    And I am sent expressly to your lordship.

TIMON    Give me breath.
    I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on;
    I'll wait upon you instantly.

    [Exeunt ALCIBIADES and Lords]

    [To FLAVIUS]

                Come hither: pray you,
    How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd
    With clamourous demands of date-broke bonds,
    And the detention of long-since-due debts,
    Against my honour?

FLAVIUS                      Please you, gentlemen,
    The time is unagreeable to this business:
    Your importunacy cease till after dinner,
    That I may make his lordship understand
    Wherefore you are not paid.

TIMON    Do so, my friends. See them well entertain'd.

    [Exit]

FLAVIUS    Pray, draw near.

    [Exit]

    [Enter APEMANTUS and Fool]

CAPHIS    Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus:
    let's ha' some sport with 'em.

Varro's Servant    Hang him, he'll abuse us.

Isidore's Servant    A plague upon him, dog!

Varro's Servant    How dost, fool?

APEMANTUS    Dost dialogue with thy shadow?

Varro's Servant    I speak not to thee.

APEMANTUS    No,'tis to thyself.

    [To the Fool]

    Come away.

Isidore's Servant    There's the fool hangs on your back already.

APEMANTUS    No, thou stand'st single, thou'rt not on him yet.

CAPHIS    Where's the fool now?

APEMANTUS    He last asked the question. Poor rogues, and
    usurers' men! bawds between gold and want!

All Servants    What are we, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    Asses.

All Servants    Why?

APEMANTUS    That you ask me what you are, and do not know
    yourselves. Speak to 'em, fool.

Fool    How do you, gentlemen?

All Servants    Gramercies, good fool: how does your mistress?

Fool    She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens
    as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth!

APEMANTUS    Good! gramercy.

    [Enter Page]

Fool    Look you, here comes my mistress' page.

Page    [To the Fool]  Why, how now, captain! what do you
    in this wise company? How dost thou, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer
    thee profitably.

Page    Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of
    these letters: I know not which is which.

APEMANTUS    Canst not read?

Page    No.

APEMANTUS    There will little learning die then, that day thou
    art hanged. This is to Lord Timon; this to
    Alcibiades. Go; thou wast born a bastard, and thou't
    die a bawd.

Page    Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou shalt famish a
    dog's death. Answer not; I am gone.

    [Exit]

APEMANTUS    E'en so thou outrunnest grace. Fool, I will go with
    you to Lord Timon's.

Fool    Will you leave me there?

APEMANTUS    If Timon stay at home. You three serve three usurers?

All Servants    Ay; would they served us!

APEMANTUS    So would I,--as good a trick as ever hangman served thief.

Fool    Are you three usurers' men?

All Servants    Ay, fool.

Fool    I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant: my
    mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come
    to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly, and
    go away merry; but they enter my mistress' house
    merrily, and go away sadly: the reason of this?

Varro's Servant    I could render one.

APEMANTUS    Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster
    and a knave; which not-withstanding, thou shalt be
    no less esteemed.

Varro's Servant    What is a whoremaster, fool?

Fool    A fool in good clothes, and something like thee.
    'Tis a spirit: sometime't appears like a lord;
    sometime like a lawyer; sometime like a philosopher,
    with two stones moe than's artificial one: he is
    very often like a knight; and, generally, in all
    shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore
    to thirteen, this spirit walks in.

Varro's Servant    Thou art not altogether a fool.

Fool    Nor thou altogether a wise man: as much foolery as
    I have, so much wit thou lackest.

APEMANTUS    That answer might have become Apemantus.

All Servants    Aside, aside; here comes Lord Timon.

    [Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS]

APEMANTUS    Come with me, fool, come.

Fool    I do not always follow lover, elder brother and
    woman; sometime the philosopher.

    [Exeunt APEMANTUS and Fool]

FLAVIUS    Pray you, walk near: I'll speak with you anon.

    [Exeunt Servants]

TIMON    You make me marvel: wherefore ere this time
    Had you not fully laid my state before me,
    That I might so have rated my expense,
    As I had leave of means?

FLAVIUS    You would not hear me,
    At many leisures I proposed.

TIMON    Go to:
    Perchance some single vantages you took.
    When my indisposition put you back:
    And that unaptness made your minister,
    Thus to excuse yourself.

FLAVIUS    O my good lord,
    At many times I brought in my accounts,
    Laid them before you; you would throw them off,
    And say, you found them in mine honesty.
    When, for some trifling present, you have bid me
    Return so much, I have shook my head and wept;
    Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, pray'd you
    To hold your hand more close: I did endure
    Not seldom, nor no slight cheques, when I have
    Prompted you in the ebb of your estate
    And your great flow of debts. My loved lord,
    Though you hear now, too late--yet now's a time--
    The greatest of your having lacks a half
    To pay your present debts.

TIMON    Let all my land be sold.

FLAVIUS    'Tis all engaged, some forfeited and gone;
    And what remains will hardly stop the mouth
    Of present dues: the future comes apace:
    What shall defend the interim? and at length
    How goes our reckoning?

TIMON    To Lacedaemon did my land extend.

FLAVIUS    O my good lord, the world is but a word:
    Were it all yours to give it in a breath,
    How quickly were it gone!

TIMON    You tell me true.

FLAVIUS    If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood,
    Call me before the exactest auditors
    And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me,
    When all our offices have been oppress'd
    With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept
    With drunken spilth of wine, when every room
    Hath blazed with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy,
    I have retired me to a wasteful cock,
    And set mine eyes at flow.

TIMON    Prithee, no more.

FLAVIUS    Heavens, have I said, the bounty of this lord!
    How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants
    This night englutted! Who is not Timon's?
    What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is
    Lord Timon's?
    Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon!
    Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise,
    The breath is gone whereof this praise is made:
    Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers,
    These flies are couch'd.

TIMON    Come, sermon me no further:
    No villanous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart;
    Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
    Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack,
    To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart;
    If I would broach the vessels of my love,
    And try the argument of hearts by borrowing,
    Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use
    As I can bid thee speak.

FLAVIUS    Assurance bless your thoughts!

TIMON    And, in some sort, these wants of mine are crown'd,
    That I account them blessings; for by these
    Shall I try friends: you shall perceive how you
    Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends.
    Within there! Flaminius! Servilius!

    [Enter FLAMINIUS, SERVILIUS, and other Servants]

Servants    My lord? my lord?

TIMON    I will dispatch you severally; you to Lord Lucius;
    to Lord Lucullus you: I hunted with his honour
    to-day: you, to Sempronius: commend me to their
    loves, and, I am proud, say, that my occasions have
    found time to use 'em toward a supply of money: let
    the request be fifty talents.

FLAMINIUS    As you have said, my lord.

FLAVIUS    [Aside]  Lord Lucius and Lucullus? hum!

TIMON    Go you, sir, to the senators--
    Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have
    Deserved this hearing--bid 'em send o' the instant
    A thousand talents to me.

FLAVIUS    I have been bold--
    For that I knew it the most general way--
    To them to use your signet and your name;
    But they do shake their heads, and I am here
    No richer in return.

TIMON    Is't true? can't be?

FLAVIUS    They answer, in a joint and corporate voice,
    That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot
    Do what they would; are sorry--you are honourable,--
    But yet they could have wish'd--they know not--
    Something hath been amiss--a noble nature
    May catch a wrench--would all were well--'tis pity;--
    And so, intending other serious matters,
    After distasteful looks and these hard fractions,
    With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods
    They froze me into silence.

TIMON    You gods, reward them!
    Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows
    Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:
    Their blood is caked, 'tis cold, it seldom flows;
    'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind;
    And nature, as it grows again toward earth,
    Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy.

    [To a Servant]

    Go to Ventidius.

    [To FLAVIUS]

    Prithee, be not sad,
    Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak.
    No blame belongs to thee.

    [To Servant]

            Ventidius lately
    Buried his father; by whose death he's stepp'd
    Into a great estate: when he was poor,
    Imprison'd and in scarcity of friends,
    I clear'd him with five talents: greet him from me;
    Bid him suppose some good necessity
    Touches his friend, which craves to be remember'd
    With those five talents.

    [Exit Servant]

    [To FLAVIUS]

           That had, give't these fellows
    To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think,
    That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink.

FLAVIUS    I would I could not think it: that thought is
    bounty's foe;
    Being free itself, it thinks all others so.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE I    A room in Lucullus' house.


    [FLAMINIUS waiting. Enter a Servant to him]

Servant    I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you.

FLAMINIUS    I thank you, sir.

    [Enter LUCULLUS]

Servant    Here's my lord.

LUCULLUS    [Aside]  One of Lord Timon's men? a gift, I
    warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of a silver
    basin and ewer to-night. Flaminius, honest
    Flaminius; you are very respectively welcome, sir.
    Fill me some wine.

    [Exit Servants]

    And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted
    gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord
    and master?

FLAMINIUS    His health is well sir.

LUCULLUS    I am right glad that his health is well, sir: and
    what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius?

FLAMINIUS    'Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir; which, in my
    lord's behalf, I come to entreat your honour to
    supply; who, having great and instant occasion to
    use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to
    furnish him, nothing doubting your present
    assistance therein.

LUCULLUS    La, la, la, la! 'nothing doubting,' says he? Alas,
    good lord! a noble gentleman 'tis, if he would not
    keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha'
    dined with him, and told him on't, and come again to
    supper to him, of purpose to have him spend less,
    and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning
    by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty
    is his: I ha' told him on't, but I could ne'er get
    him from't.

    [Re-enter Servant, with wine]

Servant    Please your lordship, here is the wine.

LUCULLUS    Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Here's to thee.

FLAMINIUS    Your lordship speaks your pleasure.

LUCULLUS    I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt
    spirit--give thee thy due--and one that knows what
    belongs to reason; and canst use the time well, if
    the time use thee well: good parts in thee.

    [To Servant]

    Get you gone, sirrah.

    [Exit Servant]

    Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord's a
    bountiful gentleman: but thou art wise; and thou
    knowest well enough, although thou comest to me,
    that this is no time to lend money, especially upon
    bare friendship, without security. Here's three
    solidares for thee: good boy, wink at me, and say
    thou sawest me not. Fare thee well.

FLAMINIUS    Is't possible the world should so much differ,
    And we alive that lived? Fly, damned baseness,
    To him that worships thee!

    [Throwing the money back]

LUCULLUS    Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master.

    [Exit]

FLAMINIUS    May these add to the number that may scald thee!
    Let moulten coin be thy damnation,
    Thou disease of a friend, and not himself!
    Has friendship such a faint and milky heart,
    It turns in less than two nights? O you gods,
    I feel master's passion! this slave,
    Unto his honour, has my lord's meat in him:
    Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment,
    When he is turn'd to poison?
    O, may diseases only work upon't!
    And, when he's sick to death, let not that part of nature
    Which my lord paid for, be of any power
    To expel sickness, but prolong his hour!

    [Exit]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE II    A public place.


    [Enter LUCILIUS, with three Strangers]

LUCILIUS    Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very good friend, and
    an honourable gentleman.

First Stranger    We know him for no less, though we are but strangers
    to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and
    which I hear from common rumours: now Lord Timon's
    happy hours are done and past, and his estate
    shrinks from him.

LUCILIUS    Fie, no, do not believe it; he cannot want for money.

Second Stranger    But believe you this, my lord, that, not long ago,
    one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow
    so many talents, nay, urged extremely for't and
    showed what necessity belonged to't, and yet was denied.

LUCILIUS    How!

Second Stranger    I tell you, denied, my lord.

LUCILIUS    What a strange case was that! now, before the gods,
    I am ashamed on't. Denied that honourable man!
    there was very little honour showed in't. For my own
    part, I must needs confess, I have received some
    small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels
    and such-like trifles, nothing comparing to his;
    yet, had he mistook him and sent to me, I should
    ne'er have denied his occasion so many talents.

    [Enter SERVILIUS]

SERVILIUS    See, by good hap, yonder's my lord;
    I have sweat to see his honour. My honoured lord,--

    [To LUCIUS]

LUCILIUS    Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well:
    commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very
    exquisite friend.

SERVILIUS    May it please your honour, my lord hath sent--

LUCILIUS    Ha! what has he sent? I am so much endeared to
    that lord; he's ever sending: how shall I thank
    him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent now?

SERVILIUS    Has only sent his present occasion now, my lord;
    requesting your lordship to supply his instant use
    with so many talents.

LUCILIUS    I know his lordship is but merry with me;
    He cannot want fifty five hundred talents.

SERVILIUS    But in the mean time he wants less, my lord.
    If his occasion were not virtuous,
    I should not urge it half so faithfully.

LUCILIUS    Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius?

SERVILIUS    Upon my soul,'tis true, sir.

LUCILIUS    What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself
    against such a good time, when I might ha' shown
    myself honourable! how unluckily it happened, that I
    should purchase the day before for a little part,
    and undo a great deal of honoured! Servilius, now,
    before the gods, I am not able to do,--the more
    beast, I say:--I was sending to use Lord Timon
    myself, these gentlemen can witness! but I would
    not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done't now.
    Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I
    hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me,
    because I have no power to be kind: and tell him
    this from me, I count it one of my greatest
    afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an
    honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you
    befriend me so far, as to use mine own words to him?

SERVILIUS    Yes, sir, I shall.

LUCILIUS    I'll look you out a good turn, Servilius.

    [Exit SERVILIUS]

    True as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed;
    And he that's once denied will hardly speed.

    [Exit]

First Stranger    Do you observe this, Hostilius?

Second Stranger    Ay, too well.

First Stranger    Why, this is the world's soul; and just of the
    same piece
    Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him
    His friend that dips in the same dish? for, in
    My knowing, Timon has been this lord's father,
    And kept his credit with his purse,
    Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money
    Has paid his men their wages: he ne'er drinks,
    But Timon's silver treads upon his lip;
    And yet--O, see the monstrousness of man
    When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!--
    He does deny him, in respect of his,
    What charitable men afford to beggars.

Third Stranger    Religion groans at it.

First Stranger    For mine own part,
    I never tasted Timon in my life,
    Nor came any of his bounties over me,
    To mark me for his friend; yet, I protest,
    For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue
    And honourable carriage,
    Had his necessity made use of me,
    I would have put my wealth into donation,
    And the best half should have return'd to him,
    So much I love his heart: but, I perceive,
    Men must learn now with pity to dispense;
    For policy sits above conscience.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE III    A room in Sempronius' house.


    [Enter SEMPRONIUS, and a Servant of TIMON's]

SEMPRONIUS    Must he needs trouble me in 't,--hum!--'bove
    all others?
    He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus;
    And now Ventidius is wealthy too,
    Whom he redeem'd from prison: all these
    Owe their estates unto him.

Servant    My lord,
    They have all been touch'd and found base metal, for
    They have au denied him.

SEMPRONIUS    How! have they denied him?
    Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him?
    And does he send to me? Three? hum!
    It shows but little love or judgment in him:
    Must I be his last refuge! His friends, like
    physicians,
    Thrive, give him over: must I take the cure upon me?
    Has much disgraced me in't; I'm angry at him,
    That might have known my place: I see no sense for't,
    But his occasion might have woo'd me first;
    For, in my conscience, I was the first man
    That e'er received gift from him:
    And does he think so backwardly of me now,
    That I'll requite its last? No:
    So it may prove an argument of laughter
    To the rest, and 'mongst lords I be thought a fool.
    I'ld rather than the worth of thrice the sum,
    Had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake;
    I'd such a courage to do him good. But now return,
    And with their faint reply this answer join;
    Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin.

    [Exit]

Servant    Excellent! Your lordship's a goodly villain. The
    devil knew not what he did when he made man
    politic; he crossed himself by 't: and I cannot
    think but, in the end, the villainies of man will
    set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to
    appear foul! takes virtuous copies to be wicked,
    like those that under hot ardent zeal would set
    whole realms on fire: Of such a nature is his
    politic love.
    This was my lord's best hope; now all are fled,
    Save only the gods: now his friends are dead,
    Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards
    Many a bounteous year must be employ'd
    Now to guard sure their master.
    And this is all a liberal course allows;
    Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house.

    [Exit]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE IV    The same. A hall in Timon's house.


    [Enter two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of
    LUCIUS, meeting TITUS, HORTENSIUS, and other
    Servants of TIMON's creditors, waiting his coming out]

Varro's
First Servant    Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius.

TITUS    The like to you kind Varro.

HORTENSIUS    Lucius!
    What, do we meet together?

Lucilius' Servant    Ay, and I think
    One business does command us all; for mine Is money.

TITUS    So is theirs and ours.

    [Enter PHILOTUS]

Lucilius' Servant    And Sir Philotus too!

PHILOTUS    Good day at once.

Lucilius' Servant                      Welcome, good brother.
    What do you think the hour?

PHILOTUS    Labouring for nine.

Lucilius' Servant    So much?

PHILOTUS    Is not my lord seen yet?

Lucilius' Servant    Not yet.

PHILOTUS    I wonder on't; he was wont to shine at seven.

Lucilius' Servant    Ay, but the days are wax'd shorter with him:
    You must consider that a prodigal course
    Is like the sun's; but not, like his, recoverable.
    I fear 'tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse;
    That is one may reach deep enough, and yet
    Find little.

PHILOTUS    I am of your fear for that.

TITUS    I'll show you how to observe a strange event.
    Your lord sends now for money.

HORTENSIUS    Most true, he does.

TITUS    And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift,
    For which I wait for money.

HORTENSIUS    It is against my heart.

Lucilius' Servant    Mark, how strange it shows,
    Timon in this should pay more than he owes:
    And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels,
    And send for money for 'em.

HORTENSIUS    I'm weary of this charge, the gods can witness:
    I know my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth,
    And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth.

Varro's
First Servant    Yes, mine's three thousand crowns: what's yours?

Lucilius' Servant    Five thousand mine.

Varro's
First Servant    'Tis much deep: and it should seem by the sun,
    Your master's confidence was above mine;
    Else, surely, his had equall'd.

    Enter FLAMINIUS.

TITUS    One of Lord Timon's men.

Lucilius' Servant    Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray, is my lord ready to
    come forth?

FLAMINIUS    No, indeed, he is not.

TITUS    We attend his lordship; pray, signify so much.

FLAMINIUS    I need not tell him that; he knows you are too diligent.

    [Exit]

    [Enter FLAVIUS in a cloak, muffled]

Lucilius' Servant    Ha! is not that his steward muffled so?
    He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him.

TITUS    Do you hear, sir?

Varro's
Second Servant    By your leave, sir,--

FLAVIUS    What do ye ask of me, my friend?

TITUS    We wait for certain money here, sir.

FLAVIUS    Ay,
    If money were as certain as your waiting,
    'Twere sure enough.
    Why then preferr'd you not your sums and bills,
    When your false masters eat of my lord's meat?
    Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts
    And take down the interest into their
    gluttonous maws.
    You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up;
    Let me pass quietly:
    Believe 't, my lord and I have made an end;
    I have no more to reckon, he to spend.

Lucilius' Servant    Ay, but this answer will not serve.

FLAVIUS    If 'twill not serve,'tis not so base as you;
    For you serve knaves.

    [Exit]

Varro's
First Servant    How! what does his cashiered worship mutter?

Varro's
Second Servant    No matter what; he's poor, and that's revenge
    enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no
    house to put his head in? such may rail against
    great buildings.

    [Enter SERVILIUS]

TITUS    O, here's Servilius; now we shall know some answer.

SERVILIUS    If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some
    other hour, I should derive much from't; for,
    take't of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to
    discontent: his comfortable temper has forsook him;
    he's much out of health, and keeps his chamber.

Lucilius' Servant: Many do keep their chambers are not sick:
    And, if it be so far beyond his health,
    Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts,
    And make a clear way to the gods.

SERVILIUS    Good gods!

TITUS    We cannot take this for answer, sir.

FLAMINIUS    [Within]  Servilius, help! My lord! my lord!

    [Enter TIMON, in a rage, FLAMINIUS following]

TIMON    What, are my doors opposed against my passage?
    Have I been ever free, and must my house
    Be my retentive enemy, my gaol?
    The place which I have feasted, does it now,
    Like all mankind, show me an iron heart?

Lucilius' Servant    Put in now, Titus.

TITUS    My lord, here is my bill.

Lucilius' Servant    Here's mine.

HORTENSIUS    And mine, my lord.

Both
Varro's Servants    And ours, my lord.

PHILOTUS    All our bills.

TIMON    Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle.

Lucilius' Servant    Alas, my lord,-

TIMON    Cut my heart in sums.

TITUS    Mine, fifty talents.

TIMON    Tell out my blood.

Lucilius' Servant    Five thousand crowns, my lord.

TIMON    Five thousand drops pays that.
    What yours?--and yours?

Varro's
First Servant    My lord,--

Varro's
Second Servant    My lord,--

TIMON    Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you!

    [Exit]

HORTENSIUS    'Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps
    at their money: these debts may well be called
    desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em.

    [Exeunt]

    [Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS]

TIMON    They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves.
    Creditors? devils!

FLAVIUS    My dear lord,--

TIMON    What if it should be so?

FLAVIUS    My lord,--

TIMON    I'll have it so. My steward!

FLAVIUS    Here, my lord.

TIMON    So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again,
    Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius:
    All, sirrah, all:
    I'll once more feast the rascals.

FLAVIUS    O my lord,
    You only speak from your distracted soul;
    There is not so much left, to furnish out
    A moderate table.

TIMON                      Be't not in thy care; go,
    I charge thee, invite them all: let in the tide
    Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE V    The same. The senate-house. The Senate sitting.


First Senator    My lord, you have my voice to it; the fault's
    Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die:
    Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

Second Senator    Most true; the law shall bruise him.

    [Enter ALCIBIADES, with Attendants]

ALCIBIADES    Honour, health, and compassion to the senate!

First Senator    Now, captain?

ALCIBIADES    I am an humble suitor to your virtues;
    For pity is the virtue of the law,
    And none but tyrants use it cruelly.
    It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy
    Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood,
    Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth
    To those that, without heed, do plunge into 't.
    He is a man, setting his fate aside,
    Of comely virtues:
    Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice--
    An honour in him which buys out his fault--
    But with a noble fury and fair spirit,
    Seeing his reputation touch'd to death,
    He did oppose his foe:
    And with such sober and unnoted passion
    He did behave his anger, ere 'twas spent,
    As if he had but proved an argument.

First Senator    You undergo too strict a paradox,
    Striving to make an ugly deed look fair:
    Your words have took such pains as if they labour'd
    To bring manslaughter into form and set quarrelling
    Upon the head of valour; which indeed
    Is valour misbegot and came into the world
    When sects and factions were newly born:
    He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer
    The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs
    His outsides, to wear them like his raiment,
    carelessly,
    And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
    To bring it into danger.
    If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill,
    What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill!

ALCIBIADES    My lord,--

First Senator           You cannot make gross sins look clear:
    To revenge is no valour, but to bear.

ALCIBIADES    My lords, then, under favour, pardon me,
    If I speak like a captain.
    Why do fond men expose themselves to battle,
    And not endure all threats? sleep upon't,
    And let the foes quietly cut their throats,
    Without repugnancy? If there be
    Such valour in the bearing, what make we
    Abroad? why then, women are more valiant
    That stay at home, if bearing carry it,
    And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon
    Loaden with irons wiser than the judge,
    If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords,
    As you are great, be pitifully good:
    Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood?
    To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust;
    But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just.
    To be in anger is impiety;
    But who is man that is not angry?
    Weigh but the crime with this.

Second Senator    You breathe in vain.

ALCIBIADES    In vain! his service done
    At Lacedaemon and Byzantium
    Were a sufficient briber for his life.

First Senator    What's that?

ALCIBIADES    I say, my lords, he has done fair service,
    And slain in fight many of your enemies:
    How full of valour did he bear himself
    In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds!

Second Senator    He has made too much plenty with 'em;
    He's a sworn rioter: he has a sin that often
    Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner:
    If there were no foes, that were enough
    To overcome him: in that beastly fury
    He has been known to commit outrages,
    And cherish factions: 'tis inferr'd to us,
    His days are foul and his drink dangerous.

First Senator    He dies.

ALCIBIADES    Hard fate! he might have died in war.
    My lords, if not for any parts in him--
    Though his right arm might purchase his own time
    And be in debt to none--yet, more to move you,
    Take my deserts to his, and join 'em both:
    And, for I know your reverend ages love
    Security, I'll pawn my victories, all
    My honours to you, upon his good returns.
    If by this crime he owes the law his life,
    Why, let the war receive 't in valiant gore
    For law is strict, and war is nothing more.

First Senator    We are for law: he dies; urge it no more,
    On height of our displeasure: friend or brother,
    He forfeits his own blood that spills another.

ALCIBIADES    Must it be so? it must not be. My lords,
    I do beseech you, know me.

Second Senator    How!

ALCIBIADES    Call me to your remembrances.

Third Senator    What!

ALCIBIADES    I cannot think but your age has forgot me;
    It could not else be, I should prove so base,
    To sue, and be denied such common grace:
    My wounds ache at you.

First Senator    Do you dare our anger?
    'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect;
    We banish thee for ever.

ALCIBIADES    Banish me!
    Banish your dotage; banish usury,
    That makes the senate ugly.

First Senator    If, after two days' shine, Athens contain thee,
    Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell
    our spirit,
    He shall be executed presently.

    [Exeunt Senators]

ALCIBIADES    Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live
    Only in bone, that none may look on you!
    I'm worse than mad: I have kept back their foes,
    While they have told their money and let out
    Their coin upon large interest, I myself
    Rich only in large hurts. All those for this?
    Is this the balsam that the usuring senate
    Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment!
    It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd;
    It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury,
    That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up
    My discontented troops, and lay for hearts.
    'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds;
    Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.

    [Exit]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT III



SCENE VI    The same. A banqueting-room in Timon's house.


    [Music. Tables set out: Servants attending.
    Enter divers Lords, Senators and others, at
    several doors]

First Lord    The good time of day to you, sir.

Second Lord    I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord
    did but try us this other day.

First Lord    Upon that were my thoughts tiring, when we
    encountered: I hope it is not so low with him as
    he made it seem in the trial of his several friends.

Second Lord    It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting.

First Lord    I should think so: he hath sent me an earnest
    inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me
    to put off; but he hath conjured me beyond them, and
    I must needs appear.

Second Lord    In like manner was I in debt to my importunate
    business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am
    sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my
    provision was out.

First Lord    I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all
    things go.

Second Lord    Every man here's so. What would he have borrowed of
    you?

First Lord    A thousand pieces.

Second Lord    A thousand pieces!

First Lord    What of you?

Second Lord    He sent to me, sir,--Here he comes.

    [Enter TIMON and Attendants]

TIMON    With all my heart, gentlemen both; and how fare you?

First Lord    Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship.

Second Lord    The swallow follows not summer more willing than we
    your lordship.

TIMON    [Aside]  Nor more willingly leaves winter; such
    summer-birds are men. Gentlemen, our dinner will not
    recompense this long stay: feast your ears with the
    music awhile, if they will fare so harshly o' the
    trumpet's sound; we shall to 't presently.

First Lord    I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship
    that I returned you an empty messenger.

TIMON    O, sir, let it not trouble you.

Second Lord    My noble lord,--

TIMON    Ah, my good friend, what cheer?

Second Lord    My most honourable lord, I am e'en sick of shame,
    that, when your lordship this other day sent to me,
    I was so unfortunate a beggar.

TIMON    Think not on 't, sir.

Second Lord    If you had sent but two hours before,--

TIMON    Let it not cumber your better remembrance.

    [The banquet brought in]

    Come, bring in all together.

Second Lord    All covered dishes!

First Lord    Royal cheer, I warrant you.

Third Lord    Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield
    it.

First Lord    How do you? What's the news?

Third Lord    Alcibiades is banished: hear you of it?


First Lord    |
    |  Alcibiades banished!
Second Lord    |


Third Lord    'Tis so, be sure of it.

First Lord    How! how!

Second Lord    I pray you, upon what?

TIMON    My worthy friends, will you draw near?

Third Lord    I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble feast toward.

Second Lord    This is the old man still.

Third Lord    Will 't hold? will 't hold?

Second Lord    It does: but time will--and so--

Third Lord    I do conceive.

TIMON    Each man to his stool, with that spur as he would to
    the lip of his mistress: your diet shall be in all
    places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let
    the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place:
    sit, sit. The gods require our thanks.

    You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with
    thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves
    praised: but reserve still to give, lest your
    deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that
    one need not lend to another; for, were your
    godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the
    gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man
    that gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without
    a score of villains: if there sit twelve women at
    the table, let a dozen of them be--as they are. The
    rest of your fees, O gods--the senators of Athens,
    together with the common lag of people--what is
    amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for
    destruction. For these my present friends, as they
    are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and to
    nothing are they welcome.

    Uncover, dogs, and lap.

    [The dishes are uncovered and seen to be full of
    warm water]

Some Speak    What does his lordship mean?

Some Others    I know not.

TIMON    May you a better feast never behold,
    You knot of mouth-friends I smoke and lukewarm water
    Is your perfection. This is Timon's last;
    Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries,
    Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces
    Your reeking villany.

    [Throwing the water in their faces]

        Live loathed and long,
    Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites,
    Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears,
    You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies,
    Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks!
    Of man and beast the infinite malady
    Crust you quite o'er! What, dost thou go?
    Soft! take thy physic first--thou too--and thou;--
    Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.

    [Throws the dishes at them, and drives them out]

    What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast,
    Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest.
    Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated be
    Of Timon man and all humanity!

    [Exit]

    [Re-enter the Lords, Senators, &c]

First Lord    How now, my lords!

Second Lord    Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury?

Third Lord    Push! did you see my cap?

Fourth Lord    I have lost my gown.

First Lord    He's but a mad lord, and nought but humour sways him.
    He gave me a jewel th' other day, and now he has
    beat it out of my hat: did you see my jewel?

Third Lord    Did you see my cap?

Second Lord    Here 'tis.

Fourth Lord    Here lies my gown.

First Lord    Let's make no stay.

Second Lord    Lord Timon's mad.

Third Lord    I feel 't upon my bones.

Fourth Lord    One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT IV



SCENE I    Without the walls of Athens.


    [Enter TIMON]

TIMON    Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall,
    That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth,
    And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent!
    Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools,
    Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench,
    And minister in their steads! to general filths
    Convert o' the instant, green virginity,
    Do 't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast;
    Rather than render back, out with your knives,
    And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, steal!
    Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
    And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed;
    Thy mistress is o' the brothel! Son of sixteen,
    pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire,
    With it beat out his brains! Piety, and fear,
    Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
    Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
    Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
    Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
    Decline to your confounding contraries,
    And let confusion live! Plagues, incident to men,
    Your potent and infectious fevers heap
    On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica,
    Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
    As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty
    Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
    That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
    And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains,
    Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop
    Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath,
    at their society, as their friendship, may
    merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
    But nakedness, thou detestable town!
    Take thou that too, with multiplying bans!
    Timon will to the woods; where he shall find
    The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind.
    The gods confound--hear me, you good gods all--
    The Athenians both within and out that wall!
    And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow
    To the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen.

    [Exit]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT IV



SCENE II    Athens. A room in Timon's house.


    [Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants]

First Servant    Hear you, master steward, where's our master?
    Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining?

FLAVIUS    Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you?
    Let me be recorded by the righteous gods,
    I am as poor as you.

First Servant    Such a house broke!
    So noble a master fall'n! All gone! and not
    One friend to take his fortune by the arm,
    And go along with him!

Second Servant    As we do turn our backs
    From our companion thrown into his grave,
    So his familiars to his buried fortunes
    Slink all away, leave their false vows with him,
    Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self,
    A dedicated beggar to the air,
    With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
    Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows.

    [Enter other Servants]

FLAVIUS    All broken implements of a ruin'd house.

Third Servant    Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery;
    That see I by our faces; we are fellows still,
    Serving alike in sorrow: leak'd is our bark,
    And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,
    Hearing the surges threat: we must all part
    Into this sea of air.

FLAVIUS    Good fellows all,
    The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.
    Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,
    Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say,
    As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes,
    'We have seen better days.' Let each take some;
    Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more:
    Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

    [Servants embrace, and part several ways]

    O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us!
    Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,
    Since riches point to misery and contempt?
    Who would be so mock'd with glory? or to live
    But in a dream of friendship?
    To have his pomp and all what state compounds
    But only painted, like his varnish'd friends?
    Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart,
    Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood,
    When man's worst sin is, he does too much good!
    Who, then, dares to be half so kind again?
    For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.
    My dearest lord, bless'd, to be most accursed,
    Rich, only to be wretched, thy great fortunes
    Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!
    He's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat
    Of monstrous friends, nor has he with him to
    Supply his life, or that which can command it.
    I'll follow and inquire him out:
    I'll ever serve his mind with my best will;
    Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still.

    [Exit]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT IV



SCENE III    Woods and cave, near the seashore.


    [Enter TIMON, from the cave]

    O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth
    Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb
    Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb,
    Whose procreation, residence, and birth,
    Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes;
    The greater scorns the lesser: not nature,
    To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,
    But by contempt of nature.
    Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord;
    The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
    The beggar native honour.
    It is the pasture lards the rother's sides,
    The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,
    In purity of manhood stand upright,
    And say 'This man's a flatterer?' if one be,
    So are they all; for every grise of fortune
    Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate
    Ducks to the golden fool: all is oblique;
    There's nothing level in our cursed natures,
    But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd
    All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
    His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:
    Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!

    [Digging]

    Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate
    With thy most operant poison! What is here?
    Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,
    I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!
    Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,
    Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.
    Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this
    Will lug your priests and servants from your sides,
    Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:
    This yellow slave
    Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed,
    Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves
    And give them title, knee and approbation
    With senators on the bench: this is it
    That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
    She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores
    Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
    To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
    Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds
    Among the route of nations, I will make thee
    Do thy right nature.

    [March afar off]

        Ha! a drum? Thou'rt quick,
    But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief,
    When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.
    Nay, stay thou out for earnest.

    [Keeping some gold]

    [Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in
    warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA]

ALCIBIADES    What art thou there? speak.

TIMON    A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,
    For showing me again the eyes of man!

ALCIBIADES    What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,
    That art thyself a man?

TIMON    I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.
    For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
    That I might love thee something.

ALCIBIADES    I know thee well;
    But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

TIMON    I know thee too; and more than that I know thee,
    I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;
    With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:
    Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;
    Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine
    Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,
    For all her cherubim look.

PHRYNIA    Thy lips rot off!

TIMON    I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns
    To thine own lips again.

ALCIBIADES    How came the noble Timon to this change?

TIMON    As the moon does, by wanting light to give:
    But then renew I could not, like the moon;
    There were no suns to borrow of.

ALCIBIADES    Noble Timon,
    What friendship may I do thee?

TIMON    None, but to
    Maintain my opinion.

ALCIBIADES    What is it, Timon?

TIMON    Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou
    wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art
    a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for
    thou art a man!

ALCIBIADES    I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.

TIMON    Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity.

ALCIBIADES    I see them now; then was a blessed time.

TIMON    As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.

TIMANDRA    Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world
    Voiced so regardfully?

TIMON    Art thou Timandra?

TIMANDRA    Yes.

TIMON    Be a whore still: they love thee not that use thee;
    Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.
    Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves
    For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth
    To the tub-fast and the diet.

TIMANDRA    Hang thee, monster!

ALCIBIADES    Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits
    Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.
    I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,
    The want whereof doth daily make revolt
    In my penurious band: I have heard, and grieved,
    How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,
    Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,
    But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,--

TIMON    I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.

ALCIBIADES    I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.

TIMON    How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?
    I had rather be alone.

ALCIBIADES    Why, fare thee well:
    Here is some gold for thee.

TIMON    Keep it, I cannot eat it.

ALCIBIADES    When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--

TIMON    Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?

ALCIBIADES    Ay, Timon, and have cause.

TIMON    The gods confound them all in thy conquest;
    And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!

ALCIBIADES    Why me, Timon?

TIMON                      That, by killing of villains,
    Thou wast born to conquer my country.
    Put up thy gold: go on,--here's gold,--go on;
    Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
    Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison
    In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:
    Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;
    He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;
    It is her habit only that is honest,
    Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek
    Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,
    That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
    Are not within the leaf of pity writ,
    But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,
    Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;
    Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
    Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,
    And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;
    Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;
    Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
    Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
    Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:
    Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
    Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.

ALCIBIADES    Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou
    givest me,
    Not all thy counsel.

TIMON    Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse
    upon thee!


PHRYNIA    |
    |  Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more?
TIMANDRA    |


TIMON    Enough to make a whore forswear her trade,
    And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts,
    Your aprons mountant: you are not oathable,
    Although, I know, you 'll swear, terribly swear
    Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues
    The immortal gods that hear you,--spare your oaths,
    I'll trust to your conditions: be whores still;
    And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you,
    Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up;
    Let your close fire predominate his smoke,
    And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six months,
    Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin roofs
    With burthens of the dead;--some that were hang'd,
    No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still;
    Paint till a horse may mire upon your face,
    A pox of wrinkles!


PHRYNIA    |
    |  Well, more gold: what then?
TIMANDRA    |   Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold.


TIMON    Consumptions sow
    In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
    And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice,
    That he may never more false title plead,
    Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,
    That scolds against the quality of flesh,
    And not believes himself: down with the nose,
    Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
    Of him that, his particular to foresee,
    Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate
    ruffians bald;
    And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
    Derive some pain from you: plague all;
    That your activity may defeat and quell
    The source of all erection. There's more gold:
    Do you damn others, and let this damn you,
    And ditches grave you all!


PHRYNIA    |
    |  More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon.
TIMANDRA    |


TIMON    More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest.

ALCIBIADES    Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon:
    If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again.

TIMON    If I hope well, I'll never see thee more.

ALCIBIADES    I never did thee harm.

TIMON    Yes, thou spokest well of me.

ALCIBIADES    Call'st thou that harm?

TIMON    Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take
    Thy beagles with thee.

ALCIBIADES    We but offend him. Strike!

    [Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA,
    and TIMANDRA]

TIMON    That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
    Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,

    [Digging]

    Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,
    Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle,
    Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd,
    Engenders the black toad and adder blue,
    The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm,
    With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven
    Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;
    Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate,
    From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root!
    Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb,
    Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!
    Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;
    Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face
    Hath to the marbled mansion all above
    Never presented!--O, a root,--dear thanks!--
    Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas;
    Whereof ungrateful man, with liquorish draughts
    And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
    That from it all consideration slips!

    [Enter APEMANTUS]

    More man? plague, plague!

APEMANTUS    I was directed hither: men report
    Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them.

TIMON    'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog,
    Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee!

APEMANTUS    This is in thee a nature but infected;
    A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
    From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?
    This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?
    Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
    Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot
    That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
    By putting on the cunning of a carper.
    Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
    By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
    And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
    Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
    And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;
    Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
    To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just
    That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
    Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.

TIMON    Were I like thee, I'ld throw away myself.

APEMANTUS    Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself;
    A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st
    That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain,
    Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd trees,
    That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels,
    And skip where thou point'st out? will the
    cold brook,
    Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste,
    To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures
    Whose naked natures live in an the spite
    Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks,
    To the conflicting elements exposed,
    Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee;
    O, thou shalt find--

TIMON    A fool of thee: depart.

APEMANTUS    I love thee better now than e'er I did.

TIMON    I hate thee worse.

APEMANTUS                      Why?

TIMON    Thou flatter'st misery.

APEMANTUS    I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff.

TIMON    Why dost thou seek me out?

APEMANTUS    To vex thee.

TIMON    Always a villain's office or a fool's.
    Dost please thyself in't?

APEMANTUS    Ay.

TIMON    What! a knave too?

APEMANTUS    If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on
    To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou
    Dost it enforcedly; thou'ldst courtier be again,
    Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery
    Outlives encertain pomp, is crown'd before:
    The one is filling still, never complete;
    The other, at high wish: best state, contentless,
    Hath a distracted and most wretched being,
    Worse than the worst, content.
    Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable.

TIMON    Not by his breath that is more miserable.
    Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm
    With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
    Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded
    The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
    To such as may the passive drugs of it
    Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself
    In general riot; melted down thy youth
    In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
    The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
    The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
    Who had the world as my confectionary,
    The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men
    At duty, more than I could frame employment,
    That numberless upon me stuck as leaves
    Do on the oak, hive with one winter's brush
    Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare
    For every storm that blows: I, to bear this,
    That never knew but better, is some burden:
    Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
    Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?
    They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given?
    If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,
    Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff
    To some she beggar and compounded thee
    Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone!
    If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
    Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.

APEMANTUS    Art thou proud yet?

TIMON    Ay, that I am not thee.

APEMANTUS    I, that I was
    No prodigal.

TIMON                      I, that I am one now:
    Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee,
    I'ld give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.
    That the whole life of Athens were in this!
    Thus would I eat it.

    [Eating a root]

APEMANTUS    Here; I will mend thy feast.

    [Offering him a root]

TIMON    First mend my company, take away thyself.

APEMANTUS    So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine.

TIMON    'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd;
    if not, I would it were.

APEMANTUS    What wouldst thou have to Athens?

TIMON    Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt,
    Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have.

APEMANTUS    Here is no use for gold.

TIMON    The best and truest;
    For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm.

APEMANTUS    Where liest o' nights, Timon?

TIMON    Under that's above me.
    Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus?

APEMANTUS    Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat
    it.

TIMON    Would poison were obedient and knew my mind!

APEMANTUS    Where wouldst thou send it?

TIMON    To sauce thy dishes.

APEMANTUS    The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the
    extremity of both ends: when thou wast in thy gilt
    and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much
    curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art
    despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for
    thee, eat it.

TIMON    On what I hate I feed not.

APEMANTUS    Dost hate a medlar?

TIMON    Ay, though it look like thee.

APEMANTUS    An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst
    have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou
    ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means?

TIMON    Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou
    ever know beloved?

APEMANTUS    Myself.

TIMON    I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a
    dog.

APEMANTUS    What things in the world canst thou nearest compare
    to thy flatterers?

TIMON    Women nearest; but men, men are the things
    themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world,
    Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?

APEMANTUS    Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.

TIMON    Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of
    men, and remain a beast with the beasts?

APEMANTUS    Ay, Timon.

TIMON    A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t'
    attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would
    beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would
    eat three: if thou wert the fox, the lion would
    suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by
    the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would
    torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a
    breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy
    greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst
    hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the
    unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and
    make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert
    thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse:
    wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the
    leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to
    the lion and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on
    thy life: all thy safety were remotion and thy
    defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that
    were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art
    thou already, that seest not thy loss in
    transformation!

APEMANTUS    If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou
    mightst have hit upon it here: the commonwealth of
    Athens is become a forest of beasts.

TIMON    How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city?

APEMANTUS    Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of
    company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it
    and give way: when I know not what else to do, I'll
    see thee again.

TIMON    When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be
    welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus.

APEMANTUS    Thou art the cap of all the fools alive.

TIMON    Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon!

APEMANTUS    A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse.

TIMON    All villains that do stand by thee are pure.

APEMANTUS    There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st.

TIMON    If I name thee.
    I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.

APEMANTUS    I would my tongue could rot them off!

TIMON    Away, thou issue of a mangy dog!
    Choler does kill me that thou art alive;
    I swound to see thee.

APEMANTUS    Would thou wouldst burst!

TIMON    Away,
    Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose
    A stone by thee.

    [Throws a stone at him]

APEMANTUS                      Beast!

TIMON    Slave!

APEMANTUS    Toad!

TIMON    Rogue, rogue, rogue!
    I am sick of this false world, and will love nought
    But even the mere necessities upon 't.
    Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave;
    Lie where the light foam the sea may beat
    Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph,
    That death in me at others' lives may laugh.

    [To the gold]

    O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce
    'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler
    Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!
    Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate wooer,
    Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
    That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,
    That solder'st close impossibilities,
    And makest them kiss! that speak'st with
    every tongue,
    To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts!
    Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue
    Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
    May have the world in empire!

APEMANTUS    Would 'twere so!
    But not till I am dead. I'll say thou'st gold:
    Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly.

TIMON    Throng'd to!

APEMANTUS    Ay.

TIMON    Thy back, I prithee.

APEMANTUS    Live, and love thy misery.

TIMON    Long live so, and so die.

    [Exit APEMANTUS]

            I am quit.
    Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them.

    [Enter Banditti]

First Bandit    Where should he have this gold? It is some poor
    fragment, some slender sort of his remainder: the
    mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his
    friends, drove him into this melancholy.

Second Bandit    It is noised he hath a mass of treasure.

Third Bandit    Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not
    for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously
    reserve it, how shall's get it?

Second Bandit    True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid.

First Bandit    Is not this he?

Banditti    Where?

Second Bandit    'Tis his description.

Third Bandit    He; I know him.

Banditti    Save thee, Timon.

TIMON    Now, thieves?

Banditti    Soldiers, not thieves.

TIMON    Both too; and women's sons.

Banditti    We are not thieves, but men that much do want.

TIMON    Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.
    Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;
    Within this mile break forth a hundred springs;
    The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips;
    The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
    Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want?

First Bandit    We cannot live on grass, on berries, water,
    As beasts and birds and fishes.

TIMON    Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;
    You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con
    That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not
    In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft
    In limited professions. Rascal thieves,
    Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grape,
    Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,
    And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;
    His antidotes are poison, and he slays
    Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives together;
    Do villany, do, since you protest to do't,
    Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery.
    The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
    Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,
    And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:
    The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
    The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,
    That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
    From general excrement: each thing's a thief:
    The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
    Have uncheque'd theft. Love not yourselves: away,
    Rob one another. There's more gold. Cut throats:
    All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go,
    Break open shops; nothing can you steal,
    But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this
    I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! Amen.

Third Bandit    Has almost charmed me from my profession, by
    persuading me to it.

First Bandit    'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises
    us; not to have us thrive in our mystery.

Second Bandit    I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade.

First Bandit    Let us first see peace in Athens: there is no time
    so miserable but a man may be true.

    [Exeunt Banditti]

    [Enter FLAVIUS]

FLAVIUS    O you gods!
    Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord?
    Full of decay and failing? O monument
    And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd!
    What an alteration of honour
    Has desperate want made!
    What viler thing upon the earth than friends
    Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends!
    How rarely does it meet with this time's guise,
    When man was wish'd to love his enemies!
    Grant I may ever love, and rather woo
    Those that would mischief me than those that do!
    Has caught me in his eye: I will present
    My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord,
    Still serve him with my life. My dearest master!

TIMON    Away! what art thou?

FLAVIUS    Have you forgot me, sir?

TIMON    Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men;
    Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot thee.

FLAVIUS    An honest poor servant of yours.

TIMON    Then I know thee not:
    I never had honest man about me, I; all
    I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains.

FLAVIUS    The gods are witness,
    Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief
    For his undone lord than mine eyes for you.

TIMON    What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I
    love thee,
    Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st
    Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give
    But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping:
    Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!

FLAVIUS    I beg of you to know me, good my lord,
    To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts
    To entertain me as your steward still.

TIMON    Had I a steward
    So true, so just, and now so comfortable?
    It almost turns my dangerous nature mild.
    Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man
    Was born of woman.
    Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
    You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
    One honest man--mistake me not--but one;
    No more, I pray,--and he's a steward.
    How fain would I have hated all mankind!
    And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee,
    I fell with curses.
    Methinks thou art more honest now than wise;
    For, by oppressing and betraying me,
    Thou mightst have sooner got another service:
    For many so arrive at second masters,
    Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true--
    For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure--
    Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous,
    If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts,
    Expecting in return twenty for one?

FLAVIUS    No, my most worthy master; in whose breast
    Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late:
    You should have fear'd false times when you did feast:
    Suspect still comes where an estate is least.
    That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love,
    Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind,
    Care of your food and living; and, believe it,
    My most honour'd lord,
    For any benefit that points to me,
    Either in hope or present, I'ld exchange
    For this one wish, that you had power and wealth
    To requite me, by making rich yourself.

TIMON    Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man,
    Here, take: the gods out of my misery
    Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy;
    But thus condition'd: thou shalt build from men;
    Hate all, curse all, show charity to none,
    But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone,
    Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs
    What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 'em,
    Debts wither 'em to nothing; be men like
    blasted woods,
    And may diseases lick up their false bloods!
    And so farewell and thrive.

FLAVIUS    O, let me stay,
    And comfort you, my master.

TIMON    If thou hatest curses,
    Stay not; fly, whilst thou art blest and free:
    Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee.

    [Exit FLAVIUS. TIMON retires to his cave]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT V



SCENE I    The woods. Before Timon's cave.


    [Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON watching
    them from his cave]

Painter    As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where
    he abides.

Poet    What's to be thought of him? does the rumour hold
    for true, that he's so full of gold?

Painter    Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and
    Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor
    straggling soldiers with great quantity: 'tis said
    he gave unto his steward a mighty sum.

Poet    Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends.

Painter    Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens
    again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore
    'tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this
    supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in
    us; and is very likely to load our purposes with
    what they travail for, if it be a just true report
    that goes of his having.

Poet    What have you now to present unto him?

Painter    Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will
    promise him an excellent piece.

Poet    I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent
    that's coming toward him.

Painter    Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the
    time: it opens the eyes of expectation:
    performance is ever the duller for his act; and,
    but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the
    deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is
    most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind
    of will or testament which argues a great sickness
    in his judgment that makes it.

    [TIMON comes from his cave, behind]

TIMON    [Aside]  Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a
    man so bad as is thyself.

Poet    I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for
    him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire
    against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery
    of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency.

TIMON    [Aside]  Must thou needs stand for a villain in
    thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in
    other men? Do so, I have gold for thee.

Poet    Nay, let's seek him:
    Then do we sin against our own estate,
    When we may profit meet, and come too late.

Painter    True;
    When the day serves, before black-corner'd night,
    Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light. Come.

TIMON    [Aside]  I'll meet you at the turn. What a
    god's gold,
    That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple
    Than where swine feed!
    'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam,
    Settlest admired reverence in a slave:
    To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye
    Be crown'd with plagues that thee alone obey!
    Fit I meet them.

    [Coming forward]

Poet    Hail, worthy Timon!

Painter    Our late noble master!

TIMON    Have I once lived to see two honest men?

Poet    Sir,
    Having often of your open bounty tasted,
    Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off,
    Whose thankless natures--O abhorred spirits!--
    Not all the whips of heaven are large enough:
    What! to you,
    Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence
    To their whole being! I am rapt and cannot cover
    The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude
    With any size of words.

TIMON    Let it go naked, men may see't the better:
    You that are honest, by being what you are,
    Make them best seen and known.

Painter    He and myself
    Have travail'd in the great shower of your gifts,
    And sweetly felt it.

TIMON    Ay, you are honest men.

Painter    We are hither come to offer you our service.

TIMON    Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you?
    Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no.

Both    What we can do, we'll do, to do you service.

TIMON    Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold;
    I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest men.

Painter    So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore
    Came not my friend nor I.

TIMON    Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit
    Best in all Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the best;
    Thou counterfeit'st most lively.

Painter    So, so, my lord.

TIMON    E'en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction,
    Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth
    That thou art even natural in thine art.
    But, for all this, my honest-natured friends,
    I must needs say you have a little fault:
    Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I
    You take much pains to mend.

Both    Beseech your honour
    To make it known to us.

TIMON    You'll take it ill.

Both    Most thankfully, my lord.

TIMON    Will you, indeed?

Both    Doubt it not, worthy lord.

TIMON    There's never a one of you but trusts a knave,
    That mightily deceives you.

Both    Do we, my lord?

TIMON    Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
    Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
    Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured
    That he's a made-up villain.

Painter    I know none such, my lord.

Poet    Nor I.

TIMON    Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold,
    Rid me these villains from your companies:
    Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught,
    Confound them by some course, and come to me,
    I'll give you gold enough.

Both    Name them, my lord, let's know them.

TIMON    You that way and you this, but two in company;
    Each man apart, all single and alone,
    Yet an arch-villain keeps him company.
    If where thou art two villains shall not be,
    Come not near him. If thou wouldst not reside
    But where one villain is, then him abandon.
    Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves:

    [To Painter]

    You have work'd for me; there's payment for you: hence!

    [To Poet]

    You are an alchemist; make gold of that.
    Out, rascal dogs!

    [Beats them out, and then retires to his cave]

    [Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators]

FLAVIUS    It is in vain that you would speak with Timon;
    For he is set so only to himself
    That nothing but himself which looks like man
    Is friendly with him.

First Senator    Bring us to his cave:
    It is our part and promise to the Athenians
    To speak with Timon.

Second Senator    At all times alike
    Men are not still the same: 'twas time and griefs
    That framed him thus: time, with his fairer hand,
    Offering the fortunes of his former days,
    The former man may make him. Bring us to him,
    And chance it as it may.

FLAVIUS    Here is his cave.
    Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon!
    Look out, and speak to friends: the Athenians,
    By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee:
    Speak to them, noble Timon.

    [TIMON comes from his cave]

TIMON    Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! Speak, and
    be hang'd:
    For each true word, a blister! and each false
    Be as cauterizing to the root o' the tongue,
    Consuming it with speaking!

First Senator    Worthy Timon,--

TIMON    Of none but such as you, and you of Timon.

First Senator    The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon.

TIMON    I thank them; and would send them back the plague,
    Could I but catch it for them.

First Senator    O, forget
    What we are sorry for ourselves in thee.
    The senators with one consent of love
    Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought
    On special dignities, which vacant lie
    For thy best use and wearing.

Second Senator    They confess
    Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross:
    Which now the public body, which doth seldom
    Play the recanter, feeling in itself
    A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal
    Of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon;
    And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render,
    Together with a recompense more fruitful
    Than their offence can weigh down by the dram;
    Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth
    As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs
    And write in thee the figures of their love,
    Ever to read them thine.

TIMON    You witch me in it;
    Surprise me to the very brink of tears:
    Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes,
    And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators.

First Senator    Therefore, so please thee to return with us
    And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take
    The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks,
    Allow'd with absolute power and thy good name
    Live with authority: so soon we shall drive back
    Of Alcibiades the approaches wild,
    Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up
    His country's peace.

Second Senator    And shakes his threatening sword
    Against the walls of Athens.

First Senator    Therefore, Timon,--

TIMON    Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus:
    If Alcibiades kill my countrymen,
    Let Alcibiades know this of Timon,
    That Timon cares not. But if be sack fair Athens,
    And take our goodly aged men by the beards,
    Giving our holy virgins to the stain
    Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war,
    Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it,
    In pity of our aged and our youth,
    I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not,
    And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not,
    While you have throats to answer: for myself,
    There's not a whittle in the unruly camp
    But I do prize it at my love before
    The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you
    To the protection of the prosperous gods,
    As thieves to keepers.

FLAVIUS    Stay not, all's in vain.

TIMON    Why, I was writing of my epitaph;
    it will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness
    Of health and living now begins to mend,
    And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still;
    Be Alcibiades your plague, you his,
    And last so long enough!

First Senator    We speak in vain.

TIMON    But yet I love my country, and am not
    One that rejoices in the common wreck,
    As common bruit doth put it.

First Senator    That's well spoke.

TIMON    Commend me to my loving countrymen,--

First Senator    These words become your lips as they pass
    thorough them.

Second Senator    And enter in our ears like great triumphers
    In their applauding gates.

TIMON    Commend me to them,
    And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs,
    Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses,
    Their pangs of love, with other incident throes
    That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain
    In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them:
    I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath.

First Senator    I like this well; he will return again.

TIMON    I have a tree, which grows here in my close,
    That mine own use invites me to cut down,
    And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends,
    Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree
    From high to low throughout, that whoso please
    To stop affliction, let him take his haste,
    Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe,
    And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting.

FLAVIUS    Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him.

TIMON    Come not to me again: but say to Athens,
    Timon hath made his everlasting mansion
    Upon the beached verge of the salt flood;
    Who once a day with his embossed froth
    The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come,
    And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
    Lips, let sour words go by and language end:
    What is amiss plague and infection mend!
    Graves only be men's works and death their gain!
    Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.

    [Retires to his cave]

First Senator    His discontents are unremoveably
    Coupled to nature.

Second Senator    Our hope in him is dead: let us return,
    And strain what other means is left unto us
    In our dear peril.

First Senator                      It requires swift foot.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT V



SCENE II    Before the walls of Athens.


    [Enter two Senators and a Messenger]

First Senator    Thou hast painfully discover'd: are his files
    As full as thy report?

Messenger    have spoke the least:
    Besides, his expedition promises
    Present approach.

Second Senator    We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon.

Messenger    I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;
    Whom, though in general part we were opposed,
    Yet our old love made a particular force,
    And made us speak like friends: this man was riding
    From Alcibiades to Timon's cave,
    With letters of entreaty, which imported
    His fellowship i' the cause against your city,
    In part for his sake moved.

First Senator    Here come our brothers.

    [Enter the Senators from TIMON]

Third Senator    No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.
    The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring
    Doth choke the air with dust: in, and prepare:
    Ours is the fall, I fear; our foes the snare.

    [Exeunt]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT V



SCENE III    The woods. Timon's cave, and a rude tomb seen.


    [Enter a Soldier, seeking TIMON]

Soldier    By all description this should be the place.
    Who's here? speak, ho! No answer! What is this?
    Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span:
    Some beast rear'd this; there does not live a man.
    Dead, sure; and this his grave. What's on this tomb
    I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax:
    Our captain hath in every figure skill,
    An aged interpreter, though young in days:
    Before proud Athens he's set down by this,
    Whose fall the mark of his ambition is.

    [Exit]




    TIMON OF ATHENS


ACT V



SCENE IV    Before the walls of Athens.


    [Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES with his powers]

ALCIBIADES    Sound to this coward and lascivious town
    Our terrible approach.

    [A parley sounded]

    [Enter Senators on the walls]

    Till now you have gone on and fill'd the time
    With all licentious measure, making your wills
    The scope of justice; till now myself and such
    As slept within the shadow of your power
    Have wander'd with our traversed arms and breathed
    Our sufferance vainly: now the time is flush,
    When crouching marrow in the bearer strong
    Cries of itself 'No more:' now breathless wrong
    Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease,
    And pursy insolence shall break his wind
    With fear and horrid flight.

First Senator    Noble and young,
    When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit,
    Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear,
    We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm,
    To wipe out our ingratitude with loves
    Above their quantity.

Second Senator    So did we woo
    Transformed Timon to our city's love
    By humble message and by promised means:
    We were not all unkind, nor all deserve
    The common stroke of war.

First Senator    These walls of ours
    Were not erected by their hands from whom
    You have received your griefs; nor are they such
    That these great towers, trophies and schools
    should fall
    For private faults in them.

Second Senator    Nor are they living
    Who were the motives that you first went out;
    Shame that they wanted cunning, in excess
    Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord,
    Into our city with thy banners spread:
    By decimation, and a tithed death--
    If thy revenges hunger for that food
    Which nature loathes--take thou the destined tenth,
    And by the hazard of the spotted die
    Let die the spotted.

First Senator    All have not offended;
    For those that were, it is not square to take
    On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands,
    Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman,
    Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage:
    Spare thy Athenian cradle and those kin
    Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall
    With those that have offended: like a shepherd,
    Approach the fold and cull the infected forth,
    But kill not all together.

Second Senator    What thou wilt,
    Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile
    Than hew to't with thy sword.

First Senator     Set but thy foot
    Against our rampired gates, and they shall ope;
    So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before,
    To say thou'lt enter friendly.

Second Senator    Throw thy glove,
    Or any token of thine honour else,
    That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress
    And not as our confusion, all thy powers
    Shall make their harbour in our town, till we
    Have seal'd thy full desire.

ALCIBIADES    Then there's my glove;
    Descend, and open your uncharged ports:
    Those enemies of Timon's and mine own
    Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof
    Fall and no more: and, to atone your fears
    With my more noble meaning, not a man
    Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream
    Of regular justice in your city's bounds,
    But shall be render'd to your public laws
    At heaviest answer.

Both    'Tis most nobly spoken.

ALCIBIADES    Descend, and keep your words.

    [The Senators descend, and open the gates]

    [Enter Soldier]

Soldier    My noble general, Timon is dead;
    Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea;
    And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which
    With wax I brought away, whose soft impression
    Interprets for my poor ignorance.

ALCIBIADES    [Reads the epitaph]  'Here lies a
    wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:
    Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked
    caitiffs left!
    Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:
    Pass by and curse thy fill, but pass and stay
    not here thy gait.'
    These well express in thee thy latter spirits:
    Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs,
    Scorn'dst our brain's flow and those our
    droplets which
    From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit
    Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye
    On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead
    Is noble Timon: of whose memory
    Hereafter more. Bring me into your city,
    And I will use the olive with my sword,
    Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each
    Prescribe to other as each other's leech.
    Let our drums strike.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


LEAR    king of Britain  (KING LEAR:)

KING OF FRANCE:

DUKE OF BURGUNDY    (BURGUNDY:)

DUKE OF CORNWALL    (CORNWALL:)

DUKE OF ALBANY    (ALBANY:)

EARL OF KENT    (KENT:)

EARL OF GLOUCESTER    (GLOUCESTER:)

EDGAR    son to Gloucester.

EDMUND    bastard son to Gloucester.

CURAN    a courtier.

Old Man    tenant to Gloucester.

Doctor:

Fool:

OSWALD    steward to Goneril.

    A Captain employed by Edmund. (Captain:)

    Gentleman attendant on Cordelia. (Gentleman:)
    A Herald.

    Servants to Cornwall.
    (First Servant:)
    (Second Servant:)
    (Third Servant:)


GONERIL    |
    |
REGAN    |  daughters to Lear.
    |
CORDELIA    |


    Knights of Lear's train, Captains, Messengers,
    Soldiers, and Attendants
    (Knight:)
    (Captain:)
    (Messenger:)



SCENE    Britain.




    KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE I    King Lear's palace.


    [Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND]

KENT    I thought the king had more affected the Duke of
    Albany than Cornwall.

GLOUCESTER    It did always seem so to us: but now, in the
    division of the kingdom, it appears not which of
    the dukes he values most; for equalities are so
    weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice
    of either's moiety.

KENT    Is not this your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER    His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have
    so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am
    brazed to it.

KENT    I cannot conceive you.

GLOUCESTER    Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon
    she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son
    for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed.
    Do you smell a fault?

KENT    I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it
    being so proper.

GLOUCESTER    But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year
    elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account:
    though this knave came something saucily into the
    world before he was sent for, yet was his mother
    fair; there was good sport at his making, and the
    whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this
    noble gentleman, Edmund?

EDMUND    No, my lord.

GLOUCESTER    My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my
    honourable friend.

EDMUND    My services to your lordship.

KENT    I must love you, and sue to know you better.

EDMUND    Sir, I shall study deserving.

GLOUCESTER    He hath been out nine years, and away he shall
    again. The king is coming.

    [Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY,
    GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants]

KING LEAR    Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER    I shall, my liege.

    [Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND]

KING LEAR    Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.
    Give me the map there. Know that we have divided
    In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent
    To shake all cares and business from our age;
    Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
    Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,
    And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
    We have this hour a constant will to publish
    Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
    May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy,
    Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,
    Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
    And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters,--
    Since now we will divest us both of rule,
    Interest of territory, cares of state,--
    Which of you shall we say doth love us most?
    That we our largest bounty may extend
    Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,
    Our eldest-born, speak first.

GONERIL    Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;
    Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;
    Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
    No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
    As much as child e'er loved, or father found;
    A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
    Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

CORDELIA    [Aside]  What shall Cordelia do?
    Love, and be silent.

LEAR    Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
    With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,
    With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
    We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue
    Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter,
    Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

REGAN    Sir, I am made
    Of the self-same metal that my sister is,
    And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
    I find she names my very deed of love;
    Only she comes too short: that I profess
    Myself an enemy to all other joys,
    Which the most precious square of sense possesses;
    And find I am alone felicitate
    In your dear highness' love.

CORDELIA    [Aside]    Then poor Cordelia!
    And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's
    More richer than my tongue.

KING LEAR    To thee and thine hereditary ever
    Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
    No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
    Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy,
    Although the last, not least; to whose young love
    The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
    Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw
    A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.

CORDELIA    Nothing, my lord.

KING LEAR    Nothing!

CORDELIA    Nothing.

KING LEAR    Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.

CORDELIA    Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
    My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
    According to my bond; nor more nor less.

KING LEAR    How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little,
    Lest it may mar your fortunes.

CORDELIA    Good my lord,
    You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I
    Return those duties back as are right fit,
    Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
    Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
    They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
    That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
    Half my love with him, half my care and duty:
    Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,
    To love my father all.

KING LEAR    But goes thy heart with this?

CORDELIA    Ay, good my lord.

KING LEAR    So young, and so untender?

CORDELIA    So young, my lord, and true.

KING LEAR    Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower:
    For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
    The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;
    By all the operation of the orbs
    From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
    Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
    Propinquity and property of blood,
    And as a stranger to my heart and me
    Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian,
    Or he that makes his generation messes
    To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
    Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved,
    As thou my sometime daughter.

KENT    Good my liege,--

KING LEAR    Peace, Kent!
    Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
    I loved her most, and thought to set my rest
    On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight!
    So be my grave my peace, as here I give
    Her father's heart from her! Call France; who stirs?
    Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany,
    With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:
    Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
    I do invest you jointly with my power,
    Pre-eminence, and all the large effects
    That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,
    With reservation of an hundred knights,
    By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
    Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain
    The name, and all the additions to a king;
    The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,
    Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
    This coronet part betwixt you.

    [Giving the crown]

KENT    Royal Lear,
    Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
    Loved as my father, as my master follow'd,
    As my great patron thought on in my prayers,--

KING LEAR    The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.

KENT    Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
    The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,
    When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man?
    Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak,
    When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,
    When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom;
    And, in thy best consideration, cheque
    This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment,
    Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
    Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
    Reverbs no hollowness.

KING LEAR    Kent, on thy life, no more.

KENT    My life I never held but as a pawn
    To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose it,
    Thy safety being the motive.

KING LEAR    Out of my sight!

KENT    See better, Lear; and let me still remain
    The true blank of thine eye.

KING LEAR    Now, by Apollo,--

KENT                      Now, by Apollo, king,
    Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.

KING LEAR    O, vassal! miscreant!

    [Laying his hand on his sword]


ALBANY    |
    |  Dear sir, forbear.
CORNWALL    |


KENT    Do:
    Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
    Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom;
    Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
    I'll tell thee thou dost evil.

KING LEAR    Hear me, recreant!
    On thine allegiance, hear me!
    Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
    Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride
    To come between our sentence and our power,
    Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,
    Our potency made good, take thy reward.
    Five days we do allot thee, for provision
    To shield thee from diseases of the world;
    And on the sixth to turn thy hated back
    Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following,
    Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
    The moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter,
    This shall not be revoked.

KENT    Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear,
    Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

    [To CORDELIA]

    The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
    That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said!

    [To REGAN and GONERIL]

    And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
    That good effects may spring from words of love.
    Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
    He'll shape his old course in a country new.

    [Exit]

    [Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with KING OF FRANCE,
    BURGUNDY, and Attendants]

GLOUCESTER    Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

KING LEAR    My lord of Burgundy.
    We first address towards you, who with this king
    Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least,
    Will you require in present dower with her,
    Or cease your quest of love?

BURGUNDY    Most royal majesty,
    I crave no more than what your highness offer'd,
    Nor will you tender less.

KING LEAR    Right noble Burgundy,
    When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;
    But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands:
    If aught within that little seeming substance,
    Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,
    And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
    She's there, and she is yours.

BURGUNDY    I know no answer.

KING LEAR    Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
    Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
    Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
    Take her, or leave her?

BURGUNDY    Pardon me, royal sir;
    Election makes not up on such conditions.

KING LEAR    Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
    I tell you all her wealth.

    [To KING OF FRANCE]

             For you, great king,
    I would not from your love make such a stray,
    To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
    To avert your liking a more worthier way
    Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed
    Almost to acknowledge hers.

KING OF FRANCE    This is most strange,
    That she, that even but now was your best object,
    The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
    Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time
    Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
    So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence
    Must be of such unnatural degree,
    That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection
    Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her,
    Must be a faith that reason without miracle
    Could never plant in me.

CORDELIA    I yet beseech your majesty,--
    If for I want that glib and oily art,
    To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,
    I'll do't before I speak,--that you make known
    It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
    No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
    That hath deprived me of your grace and favour;
    But even for want of that for which I am richer,
    A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
    As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
    Hath lost me in your liking.

KING LEAR    Better thou
    Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better.

KING OF FRANCE    Is it but this,--a tardiness in nature
    Which often leaves the history unspoke
    That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy,
    What say you to the lady? Love's not love
    When it is mingled with regards that stand
    Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?
    She is herself a dowry.

BURGUNDY    Royal Lear,
    Give but that portion which yourself proposed,
    And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
    Duchess of Burgundy.

KING LEAR    Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.

BURGUNDY    I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father
    That you must lose a husband.

CORDELIA    Peace be with Burgundy!
    Since that respects of fortune are his love,
    I shall not be his wife.

KING OF FRANCE    Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
    Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised!
    Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
    Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.
    Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
    My love should kindle to inflamed respect.
    Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
    Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
    Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy
    Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.
    Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
    Thou losest here, a better where to find.

KING LEAR    Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we
    Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
    That face of hers again. Therefore be gone
    Without our grace, our love, our benison.
    Come, noble Burgundy.

    [Flourish. Exeunt all but KING OF FRANCE, GONERIL,
    REGAN, and CORDELIA]

KING OF FRANCE    Bid farewell to your sisters.

CORDELIA    The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
    Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are;
    And like a sister am most loath to call
    Your faults as they are named. Use well our father:
    To your professed bosoms I commit him
    But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
    I would prefer him to a better place.
    So, farewell to you both.

REGAN    Prescribe not us our duties.

GONERIL    Let your study
    Be to content your lord, who hath received you
    At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
    And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

CORDELIA    Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:
    Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
    Well may you prosper!

KING OF FRANCE    Come, my fair Cordelia.

    [Exeunt KING OF FRANCE and CORDELIA]

GONERIL    Sister, it is not a little I have to say of what
    most nearly appertains to us both. I think our
    father will hence to-night.

REGAN    That's most certain, and with you; next month with us.

GONERIL    You see how full of changes his age is; the
    observation we have made of it hath not been
    little: he always loved our sister most; and
    with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off
    appears too grossly.

REGAN    'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever
    but slenderly known himself.

GONERIL    The best and soundest of his time hath been but
    rash; then must we look to receive from his age,
    not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed
    condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness
    that infirm and choleric years bring with them.

REGAN    Such unconstant starts are we like to have from
    him as this of Kent's banishment.

GONERIL    There is further compliment of leavetaking
    between France and him. Pray you, let's hit
    together: if our father carry authority with
    such dispositions as he bears, this last
    surrender of his will but offend us.

REGAN    We shall further think on't.

GONERIL    We must do something, and i' the heat.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE II    The Earl of Gloucester's castle.


    [Enter EDMUND, with a letter]

EDMUND    Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
    My services are bound. Wherefore should I
    Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
    The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
    For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
    Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
    When my dimensions are as well compact,
    My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
    As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
    With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
    Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
    More composition and fierce quality
    Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
    Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
    Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
    Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
    Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
    As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
    Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
    And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
    Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
    Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

    [Enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER    Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted!
    And the king gone to-night! subscribed his power!
    Confined to exhibition! All this done
    Upon the gad! Edmund, how now! what news?

EDMUND    So please your lordship, none.

    [Putting up the letter]

GLOUCESTER    Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

EDMUND    I know no news, my lord.

GLOUCESTER    What paper were you reading?

EDMUND    Nothing, my lord.

GLOUCESTER    No? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of
    it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath
    not such need to hide itself. Let's see: come,
    if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.

EDMUND    I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter
    from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read;
    and for so much as I have perused, I find it not
    fit for your o'er-looking.

GLOUCESTER    Give me the letter, sir.

EDMUND    I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The
    contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.

GLOUCESTER    Let's see, let's see.

EDMUND    I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote
    this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.

GLOUCESTER    [Reads]  'This policy and reverence of age makes
    the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps
    our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish
    them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage
    in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not
    as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to
    me, that of this I may speak more. If our father
    would sleep till I waked him, you should half his
    revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your
    brother,    EDGAR.'

    Hum--conspiracy!--'Sleep till I waked him,--you
    should enjoy half his revenue,'--My son Edgar!
    Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain
    to breed it in?--When came this to you? who
    brought it?

EDMUND    It was not brought me, my lord; there's the
    cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the
    casement of my closet.

GLOUCESTER    You know the character to be your brother's?

EDMUND    If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear
    it were his; but, in respect of that, I would
    fain think it were not.

GLOUCESTER    It is his.

EDMUND    It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is
    not in the contents.

GLOUCESTER    Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business?

EDMUND    Never, my lord: but I have heard him oft
    maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age,
    and fathers declining, the father should be as
    ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.

GLOUCESTER    O villain, villain! His very opinion in the
    letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested,
    brutish villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah,
    seek him; I'll apprehend him: abominable villain!
    Where is he?

EDMUND    I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please
    you to suspend your indignation against my
    brother till you can derive from him better
    testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain
    course; where, if you violently proceed against
    him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great
    gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the
    heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life
    for him, that he hath wrote this to feel my
    affection to your honour, and to no further
    pretence of danger.

GLOUCESTER    Think you so?

EDMUND    If your honour judge it meet, I will place you
    where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an
    auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and
    that without any further delay than this very evening.

GLOUCESTER    He cannot be such a monster--

EDMUND    Nor is not, sure.

GLOUCESTER    To his father, that so tenderly and entirely
    loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him
    out: wind me into him, I pray you: frame the
    business after your own wisdom. I would unstate
    myself, to be in a due resolution.

EDMUND    I will seek him, sir, presently: convey the
    business as I shall find means and acquaint you withal.

GLOUCESTER    These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend
    no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can
    reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself
    scourged by the sequent effects: love cools,
    friendship falls off, brothers divide: in
    cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in
    palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son
    and father. This villain of mine comes under the
    prediction; there's son against father: the king
    falls from bias of nature; there's father against
    child. We have seen the best of our time:
    machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all
    ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our
    graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall
    lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the
    noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his
    offence, honesty! 'Tis strange.

    [Exit]

EDMUND    This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,
    when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit
    of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our
    disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as
    if we were villains by necessity; fools by
    heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and
    treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards,
    liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of
    planetary influence; and all that we are evil in,
    by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion
    of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish
    disposition to the charge of a star! My
    father compounded with my mother under the
    dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa
    major; so that it follows, I am rough and
    lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am,
    had the maidenliest star in the firmament
    twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar--

    [Enter EDGAR]

    And pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old
    comedy: my cue is villanous melancholy, with a
    sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. O, these eclipses do
    portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi.

EDGAR    How now, brother Edmund! what serious
    contemplation are you in?

EDMUND    I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read
    this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

EDGAR    Do you busy yourself about that?

EDMUND    I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed
    unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child
    and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of
    ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and
    maledictions against king and nobles; needless
    diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation
    of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.

EDGAR    How long have you been a sectary astronomical?

EDMUND    Come, come; when saw you my father last?

EDGAR    Why, the night gone by.

EDMUND    Spake you with him?

EDGAR    Ay, two hours together.

EDMUND    Parted you in good terms? Found you no
    displeasure in him by word or countenance?

EDGAR    None at all.

EDMUND    Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended
    him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence
    till some little time hath qualified the heat of
    his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth
    in him, that with the mischief of your person it
    would scarcely allay.

EDGAR    Some villain hath done me wrong.

EDMUND    That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent
    forbearance till the spied of his rage goes
    slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my
    lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to
    hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there's my key:
    if you do stir abroad, go armed.

EDGAR    Armed, brother!

EDMUND    Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed: I
    am no honest man if there be any good meaning
    towards you: I have told you what I have seen
    and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image
    and horror of it: pray you, away.

EDGAR    Shall I hear from you anon?

EDMUND    I do serve you in this business.

    [Exit EDGAR]

    A credulous father! and a brother noble,
    Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
    That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty
    My practises ride easy! I see the business.
    Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:
    All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.

    [Exit]




    KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE III    The Duke of Albany's palace.


    [Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD, her steward]

GONERIL    Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?

OSWALD    Yes, madam.

GONERIL    By day and night he wrongs me; every hour
    He flashes into one gross crime or other,
    That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:
    His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
    On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,
    I will not speak with him; say I am sick:
    If you come slack of former services,
    You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.

OSWALD    He's coming, madam; I hear him.

    [Horns within]

GONERIL    Put on what weary negligence you please,
    You and your fellows; I'll have it come to question:
    If he dislike it, let him to our sister,
    Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
    Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man,
    That still would manage those authorities
    That he hath given away! Now, by my life,
    Old fools are babes again; and must be used
    With cheques as flatteries,--when they are seen abused.
    Remember what I tell you.

OSWALD    Well, madam.

GONERIL    And let his knights have colder looks among you;
    What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so:
    I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall,
    That I may speak: I'll write straight to my sister,
    To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE IV    A hall in the same.


    [Enter KENT, disguised]

KENT    If but as well I other accents borrow,
    That can my speech defuse, my good intent
    May carry through itself to that full issue
    For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,
    If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
    So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest,
    Shall find thee full of labours.

    [Horns within. Enter KING LEAR, Knights, and
    Attendants]

KING LEAR    Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready.

    [Exit an Attendant]

    How now! what art thou?

KENT    A man, sir.

KING LEAR    What dost thou profess? what wouldst thou with us?

KENT    I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve
    him truly that will put me in trust: to love him
    that is honest; to converse with him that is wise,
    and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I
    cannot choose; and to eat no fish.

KING LEAR    What art thou?

KENT    A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.

KING LEAR    If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a
    king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

KENT    Service.

KING LEAR    Who wouldst thou serve?

KENT    You.

KING LEAR    Dost thou know me, fellow?

KENT    No, sir; but you have that in your countenance
    which I would fain call master.

KING LEAR    What's that?

KENT    Authority.

KING LEAR    What services canst thou do?

KENT    I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious
    tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message
    bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am
    qualified in; and the best of me is diligence.

KING LEAR    How old art thou?

KENT    Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor
    so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years
    on my back forty eight.

KING LEAR    Follow me; thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no
    worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet.
    Dinner, ho, dinner! Where's my knave? my fool?
    Go you, and call my fool hither.

    [Exit an Attendant]

    [Enter OSWALD]

    You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?

OSWALD    So please you,--

    [Exit]

KING LEAR    What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.

    [Exit a Knight]

    Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep.

    [Re-enter Knight]

    How now! where's that mongrel?

Knight    He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

KING LEAR    Why came not the slave back to me when I called him.

Knight    Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would
    not.

KING LEAR    He would not!

Knight    My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my
    judgment, your highness is not entertained with that
    ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a
    great abatement of kindness appears as well in the
    general dependants as in the duke himself also and
    your daughter.

KING LEAR    Ha! sayest thou so?

Knight    I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken;
    for my duty cannot be silent when I think your
    highness wronged.

KING LEAR    Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I
    have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I
    have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity
    than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness:
    I will look further into't. But where's my fool? I
    have not seen him this two days.

Knight    Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the
    fool hath much pined away.

KING LEAR    No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and
    tell my daughter I would speak with her.

    [Exit an Attendant]

    Go you, call hither my fool.

    [Exit an Attendant]

    [Re-enter OSWALD]

    O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I,
    sir?

OSWALD    My lady's father.

KING LEAR    'My lady's father'! my lord's knave: your
    whoreson dog! you slave! you cur!

OSWALD    I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.

KING LEAR    Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

    [Striking him]

OSWALD    I'll not be struck, my lord.

KENT    Nor tripped neither, you base football player.

    [Tripping up his heels]

KING LEAR    I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll
    love thee.

KENT    Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences:
    away, away! if you will measure your lubber's
    length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you
    wisdom? so.

    [Pushes OSWALD out]

KING LEAR    Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's
    earnest of thy service.

    [Giving KENT money]

    [Enter Fool]

Fool    Let me hire him too: here's my coxcomb.

    [Offering KENT his cap]

KING LEAR    How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou?

Fool    Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

KENT    Why, fool?

Fool    Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour:
    nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits,
    thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb:
    why, this fellow has banished two on's daughters,
    and did the third a blessing against his will; if
    thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.
    How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters!

KING LEAR    Why, my boy?

Fool    If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs
    myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters.

KING LEAR    Take heed, sirrah; the whip.

Fool    Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped
    out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink.

KING LEAR    A pestilent gall to me!

Fool    Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.

KING LEAR    Do.

Fool    Mark it, nuncle:
    Have more than thou showest,
    Speak less than thou knowest,
    Lend less than thou owest,
    Ride more than thou goest,
    Learn more than thou trowest,
    Set less than thou throwest;
    Leave thy drink and thy whore,
    And keep in-a-door,
    And thou shalt have more
    Than two tens to a score.

KENT    This is nothing, fool.

Fool    Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you
    gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of
    nothing, nuncle?

KING LEAR    Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing.

Fool    [To KENT]  Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of
    his land comes to: he will not believe a fool.

KING LEAR    A bitter fool!

Fool    Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a
    bitter fool and a sweet fool?

KING LEAR    No, lad; teach me.

Fool    That lord that counsell'd thee
    To give away thy land,
    Come place him here by me,
    Do thou for him stand:
    The sweet and bitter fool
    Will presently appear;
    The one in motley here,
    The other found out there.

KING LEAR    Dost thou call me fool, boy?

Fool    All thy other titles thou hast given away; that
    thou wast born with.

KENT    This is not altogether fool, my lord.

Fool    No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if
    I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't:
    and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool
    to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg,
    nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns.

KING LEAR    What two crowns shall they be?

Fool    Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat
    up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou
    clovest thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away
    both parts, thou borest thy ass on thy back o'er
    the dirt: thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown,
    when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak
    like myself in this, let him be whipped that first
    finds it so.

    [Singing]

    Fools had ne'er less wit in a year;
    For wise men are grown foppish,
    They know not how their wits to wear,
    Their manners are so apish.

KING LEAR    When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?

Fool    I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy
    daughters thy mothers: for when thou gavest them
    the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches,

    [Singing]

    Then they for sudden joy did weep,
    And I for sorrow sung,
    That such a king should play bo-peep,
    And go the fools among.

    Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach
    thy fool to lie: I would fain learn to lie.

KING LEAR    An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped.

Fool    I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are:
    they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt
    have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am
    whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any
    kind o' thing than a fool: and yet I would not be
    thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides,
    and left nothing i' the middle: here comes one o'
    the parings.

    [Enter GONERIL]

KING LEAR    How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on?
    Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown.

Fool    Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to
    care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a
    figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool,
    thou art nothing.

    [To GONERIL]

    Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face
    bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum,
    He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
    Weary of all, shall want some.

    [Pointing to KING LEAR]

    That's a shealed peascod.

GONERIL    Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool,
    But other of your insolent retinue
    Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth
    In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir,
    I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
    To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful,
    By what yourself too late have spoke and done.
    That you protect this course, and put it on
    By your allowance; which if you should, the fault
    Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
    Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
    Might in their working do you that offence,
    Which else were shame, that then necessity
    Will call discreet proceeding.

Fool    For, you trow, nuncle,
    The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
    That it's had it head bit off by it young.
    So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling.

KING LEAR    Are you our daughter?

GONERIL    Come, sir,
    I would you would make use of that good wisdom,
    Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away
    These dispositions, that of late transform you
    From what you rightly are.

Fool    May not an ass know when the cart
    draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee.

KING LEAR    Doth any here know me? This is not Lear:
    Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
    Either his notion weakens, his discernings
    Are lethargied--Ha! waking? 'tis not so.
    Who is it that can tell me who I am?

Fool    Lear's shadow.

KING LEAR    I would learn that; for, by the
    marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason,
    I should be false persuaded I had daughters.

Fool    Which they will make an obedient father.

KING LEAR    Your name, fair gentlewoman?

GONERIL    This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour
    Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you
    To understand my purposes aright:
    As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
    Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
    Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold,
    That this our court, infected with their manners,
    Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust
    Make it more like a tavern or a brothel
    Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak
    For instant remedy: be then desired
    By her, that else will take the thing she begs,
    A little to disquantity your train;
    And the remainder, that shall still depend,
    To be such men as may besort your age,
    And know themselves and you.

KING LEAR    Darkness and devils!
    Saddle my horses; call my train together:
    Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee.
    Yet have I left a daughter.

GONERIL    You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble
    Make servants of their betters.

    [Enter ALBANY]

KING LEAR    Woe, that too late repents,--

    [To ALBANY]

                O, sir, are you come?
    Is it your will? Speak, sir. Prepare my horses.
    Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,
    More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child
    Than the sea-monster!

ALBANY    Pray, sir, be patient.

KING LEAR    [To GONERIL]  Detested kite! thou liest.
    My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
    That all particulars of duty know,
    And in the most exact regard support
    The worships of their name. O most small fault,
    How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!
    That, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature
    From the fix'd place; drew from heart all love,
    And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
    Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in,

    [Striking his head]

    And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.

ALBANY    My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
    Of what hath moved you.

KING LEAR    It may be so, my lord.
    Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear!
    Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
    To make this creature fruitful!
    Into her womb convey sterility!
    Dry up in her the organs of increase;
    And from her derogate body never spring
    A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
    Create her child of spleen; that it may live,
    And be a thwart disnatured torment to her!
    Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth;
    With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
    Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
    To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
    How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
    To have a thankless child! Away, away!

    [Exit]

ALBANY    Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?

GONERIL    Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
    But let his disposition have that scope
    That dotage gives it.

    [Re-enter KING LEAR]

KING LEAR    What, fifty of my followers at a clap!
    Within a fortnight!

ALBANY    What's the matter, sir?


KING LEAR    I'll tell thee:

    [To GONERIL]

    Life and death! I am ashamed
    That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;
    That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
    Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!
    The untented woundings of a father's curse
    Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes,
    Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,
    And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
    To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this?
    Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter,
    Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable:
    When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
    She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
    That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
    I have cast off for ever: thou shalt,
    I warrant thee.

    [Exeunt KING LEAR, KENT, and Attendants]

GONERIL    Do you mark that, my lord?

ALBANY    I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
    To the great love I bear you,--

GONERIL    Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho!

    [To the Fool]

    You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master.

Fool    Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool
    with thee.
    A fox, when one has caught her,
    And such a daughter,
    Should sure to the slaughter,
    If my cap would buy a halter:
    So the fool follows after.

    [Exit]

GONERIL    This man hath had good counsel:--a hundred knights!
    'Tis politic and safe to let him keep
    At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream,
    Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
    He may enguard his dotage with their powers,
    And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say!

ALBANY    Well, you may fear too far.

GONERIL    Safer than trust too far:
    Let me still take away the harms I fear,
    Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart.
    What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister
    If she sustain him and his hundred knights
    When I have show'd the unfitness,--

    [Re-enter OSWALD]

                          How now, Oswald!
    What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

OSWALD    Yes, madam.

GONERIL    Take you some company, and away to horse:
    Inform her full of my particular fear;
    And thereto add such reasons of your own
    As may compact it more. Get you gone;
    And hasten your return.

    [Exit OSWALD]

          No, no, my lord,
    This milky gentleness and course of yours
    Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,
    You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom
    Than praised for harmful mildness.

ALBANY    How far your eyes may pierce I can not tell:
    Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

GONERIL    Nay, then--

ALBANY    Well, well; the event.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT I



SCENE V    Court before the same.


    [Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool]

KING LEAR    Go you before to Gloucester with these letters.
    Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you
    know than comes from her demand out of the letter.
    If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you.

KENT    I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered
    your letter.

    [Exit]

Fool    If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in
    danger of kibes?

KING LEAR    Ay, boy.

Fool    Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall ne'er go
    slip-shod.

KING LEAR    Ha, ha, ha!

Fool    Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly;
    for though she's as like this as a crab's like an
    apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

KING LEAR    Why, what canst thou tell, my boy?

Fool    She will taste as like this as a crab does to a
    crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i'
    the middle on's face?

KING LEAR    No.

Fool    Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose; that
    what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.

KING LEAR    I did her wrong--

Fool    Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?

KING LEAR    No.

Fool    Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.

KING LEAR    Why?

Fool    Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his
    daughters, and leave his horns without a case.

KING LEAR    I will forget my nature. So kind a father! Be my
    horses ready?

Fool    Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the
    seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason.

KING LEAR    Because they are not eight?

Fool    Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool.

KING LEAR    To take 't again perforce! Monster ingratitude!

Fool    If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten
    for being old before thy time.

KING LEAR    How's that?

Fool    Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst
    been wise.

KING LEAR    O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven
    Keep me in temper: I would not be mad!

    [Enter Gentleman]

    How now! are the horses ready?

Gentleman    Ready, my lord.

KING LEAR    Come, boy.

Fool    She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
    Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT II



SCENE I    GLOUCESTER's castle.


    [Enter EDMUND, and CURAN meets him]

EDMUND    Save thee, Curan.

CURAN    And you, sir. I have been with your father, and
    given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan
    his duchess will be here with him this night.

EDMUND    How comes that?

CURAN    Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad;
    I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but
    ear-kissing arguments?

EDMUND    Not I    pray you, what are they?

CURAN    Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt the
    Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?

EDMUND    Not a word.

CURAN    You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir.

    [Exit]

EDMUND    The duke be here to-night? The better! best!
    This weaves itself perforce into my business.
    My father hath set guard to take my brother;
    And I have one thing, of a queasy question,
    Which I must act: briefness and fortune, work!
    Brother, a word; descend: brother, I say!

    [Enter EDGAR]

    My father watches: O sir, fly this place;
    Intelligence is given where you are hid;
    You have now the good advantage of the night:
    Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall?
    He's coming hither: now, i' the night, i' the haste,
    And Regan with him: have you nothing said
    Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
    Advise yourself.

EDGAR                      I am sure on't, not a word.

EDMUND    I hear my father coming: pardon me:
    In cunning I must draw my sword upon you
    Draw; seem to defend yourself; now quit you well.
    Yield: come before my father. Light, ho, here!
    Fly, brother. Torches, torches! So, farewell.

    [Exit EDGAR]

    Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion.

    [Wounds his arm]

    Of my more fierce endeavour: I have seen drunkards
    Do more than this in sport. Father, father!
    Stop, stop! No help?

    [Enter GLOUCESTER, and Servants with torches]

GLOUCESTER    Now, Edmund, where's the villain?

EDMUND    Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
    Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
    To stand auspicious mistress,--

GLOUCESTER    But where is he?

EDMUND    Look, sir, I bleed.

GLOUCESTER    Where is the villain, Edmund?

EDMUND    Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could--

GLOUCESTER    Pursue him, ho! Go after.

    [Exeunt some Servants]

             By no means what?

EDMUND    Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;
    But that I told him, the revenging gods
    'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;
    Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond
    The child was bound to the father; sir, in fine,
    Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
    To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion,
    With his prepared sword, he charges home
    My unprovided body, lanced mine arm:
    But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,
    Bold in the quarrel's right, roused to the encounter,
    Or whether gasted by the noise I made,
    Full suddenly he fled.

GLOUCESTER    Let him fly far:
    Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
    And found--dispatch. The noble duke my master,
    My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night:
    By his authority I will proclaim it,
    That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks,
    Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
    He that conceals him, death.

EDMUND    When I dissuaded him from his intent,
    And found him pight to do it, with curst speech
    I threaten'd to discover him: he replied,
    'Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think,
    If I would stand against thee, would the reposal
    Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee
    Make thy words faith'd? No: what I should deny,--
    As this I would: ay, though thou didst produce
    My very character,--I'ld turn it all
    To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practise:
    And thou must make a dullard of the world,
    If they not thought the profits of my death
    Were very pregnant and potential spurs
    To make thee seek it.'

GLOUCESTER    Strong and fasten'd villain
    Would he deny his letter? I never got him.

    [Tucket within]

    Hark, the duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes.
    All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape;
    The duke must grant me that: besides, his picture
    I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
    May have the due note of him; and of my land,
    Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means
    To make thee capable.

    [Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, and Attendants]

CORNWALL    How now, my noble friend! since I came hither,
    Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news.

REGAN    If it be true, all vengeance comes too short
    Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord?

GLOUCESTER    O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd!

REGAN    What, did my father's godson seek your life?
    He whom my father named? your Edgar?

GLOUCESTER    O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid!

REGAN    Was he not companion with the riotous knights
    That tend upon my father?

GLOUCESTER    I know not, madam: 'tis too bad, too bad.

EDMUND    Yes, madam, he was of that consort.

REGAN    No marvel, then, though he were ill affected:
    'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
    To have the expense and waste of his revenues.
    I have this present evening from my sister
    Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions,
    That if they come to sojourn at my house,
    I'll not be there.

CORNWALL    Nor I, assure thee, Regan.
    Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
    A child-like office.

EDMUND    'Twas my duty, sir.

GLOUCESTER    He did bewray his practise; and received
    This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

CORNWALL    Is he pursued?

GLOUCESTER                      Ay, my good lord.

CORNWALL    If he be taken, he shall never more
    Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose,
    How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund,
    Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
    So much commend itself, you shall be ours:
    Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;
    You we first seize on.

EDMUND    I shall serve you, sir,
    Truly, however else.

GLOUCESTER    For him I thank your grace.

CORNWALL    You know not why we came to visit you,--

REGAN    Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed night:
    Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise,
    Wherein we must have use of your advice:
    Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
    Of differences, which I least thought it fit
    To answer from our home; the several messengers
    From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend,
    Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow
    Your needful counsel to our business,
    Which craves the instant use.

GLOUCESTER    I serve you, madam:
    Your graces are right welcome.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT II



SCENE II    Before Gloucester's castle.


    [Enter KENT and OSWALD, severally]

OSWALD    Good dawning to thee, friend: art of this house?

KENT    Ay.

OSWALD    Where may we set our horses?

KENT    I' the mire.

OSWALD    Prithee, if thou lovest me, tell me.

KENT    I love thee not.

OSWALD    Why, then, I care not for thee.

KENT    If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee
    care for me.

OSWALD    Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

KENT    Fellow, I know thee.

OSWALD    What dost thou know me for?

KENT    A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
    base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
    hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
    lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
    glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
    one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
    bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
    the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
    and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
    will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
    the least syllable of thy addition.

OSWALD    Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail
    on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee!

KENT    What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou
    knowest me! Is it two days ago since I tripped up
    thy heels, and beat thee before the king? Draw, you
    rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon
    shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you:
    draw, you whoreson cullionly barber-monger, draw.

    [Drawing his sword]

OSWALD    Away! I have nothing to do with thee.

KENT    Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the
    king; and take vanity the puppet's part against the
    royalty of her father: draw, you rogue, or I'll so
    carbonado your shanks: draw, you rascal; come your ways.

OSWALD    Help, ho! murder! help!

KENT    Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat
    slave, strike.

    [Beating him]

OSWALD    Help, ho! murder! murder!

    [Enter EDMUND, with his rapier drawn, CORNWALL,
    REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants]

EDMUND    How now! What's the matter?

KENT    With you, goodman boy, an you please: come, I'll
    flesh ye; come on, young master.

GLOUCESTER    Weapons! arms! What 's the matter here?

CORNWALL    Keep peace, upon your lives:
    He dies that strikes again. What is the matter?

REGAN    The messengers from our sister and the king.

CORNWALL    What is your difference? speak.

OSWALD    I am scarce in breath, my lord.

KENT    No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You
    cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee: a
    tailor made thee.

CORNWALL    Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man?

KENT    Ay, a tailor, sir: a stone-cutter or painter could
    not have made him so ill, though he had been but two
    hours at the trade.

CORNWALL    Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?

OSWALD    This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared
    at suit of his gray beard,--

KENT    Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My
    lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this
    unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of
    a jakes with him. Spare my gray beard, you wagtail?

CORNWALL    Peace, sirrah!
    You beastly knave, know you no reverence?

KENT    Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege.

CORNWALL    Why art thou angry?

KENT    That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
    Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
    Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain
    Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion
    That in the natures of their lords rebel;
    Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
    Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
    With every gale and vary of their masters,
    Knowing nought, like dogs, but following.
    A plague upon your epileptic visage!
    Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
    Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
    I'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot.

CORNWALL    Why, art thou mad, old fellow?

GLOUCESTER    How fell you out? say that.

KENT    No contraries hold more antipathy
    Than I and such a knave.

CORNWALL    Why dost thou call him a knave?  What's his offence?

KENT    His countenance likes me not.

CORNWALL    No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers.

KENT    Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain:
    I have seen better faces in my time
    Than stands on any shoulder that I see
    Before me at this instant.

CORNWALL    This is some fellow,
    Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect
    A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb
    Quite from his nature: he cannot flatter, he,
    An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth!
    An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
    These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness
    Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends
    Than twenty silly ducking observants
    That stretch their duties nicely.

KENT    Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity,
    Under the allowance of your great aspect,
    Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
    On flickering Phoebus' front,--

CORNWALL    What mean'st by this?

KENT    To go out of my dialect, which you
    discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no
    flatterer: he that beguiled you in a plain
    accent was a plain knave; which for my part
    I will not be, though I should win your displeasure
    to entreat me to 't.

CORNWALL    What was the offence you gave him?

OSWALD    I never gave him any:
    It pleased the king his master very late
    To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
    When he, conjunct and flattering his displeasure,
    Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd,
    And put upon him such a deal of man,
    That worthied him, got praises of the king
    For him attempting who was self-subdued;
    And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
    Drew on me here again.

KENT    None of these rogues and cowards
    But Ajax is their fool.

CORNWALL    Fetch forth the stocks!
    You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart,
    We'll teach you--

KENT                      Sir, I am too old to learn:
    Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king;
    On whose employment I was sent to you:
    You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
    Against the grace and person of my master,
    Stocking his messenger.

CORNWALL    Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour,
    There shall he sit till noon.

REGAN    Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too.

KENT    Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
    You should not use me so.

REGAN    Sir, being his knave, I will.

CORNWALL    This is a fellow of the self-same colour
    Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks!

    [Stocks brought out]

GLOUCESTER    Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
    His fault is much, and the good king his master
    Will cheque him for 't: your purposed low correction
    Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches
    For pilferings and most common trespasses
    Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill,
    That he's so slightly valued in his messenger,
    Should have him thus restrain'd.

CORNWALL    I'll answer that.

REGAN    My sister may receive it much more worse,
    To have her gentleman abused, assaulted,
    For following her affairs. Put in his legs.

    [KENT is put in the stocks]

    Come, my good lord, away.

    [Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER and KENT]

GLOUCESTER    I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure,
    Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
    Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd: I'll entreat for thee.

KENT    Pray, do not, sir: I have watched and travell'd hard;
    Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
    A good man's fortune may grow out at heels:
    Give you good morrow!

GLOUCESTER    The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken.

    [Exit]

KENT    Good king, that must approve the common saw,
    Thou out of heaven's benediction comest
    To the warm sun!
    Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
    That by thy comfortable beams I may
    Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles
    But misery: I know 'tis from Cordelia,
    Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
    Of my obscured course; and shall find time
    From this enormous state, seeking to give
    Losses their remedies. All weary and o'erwatch'd,
    Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
    This shameful lodging.
    Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel!

    [Sleeps]




    KING LEAR


ACT II



SCENE III    A wood.


    [Enter EDGAR]

EDGAR    I heard myself proclaim'd;
    And by the happy hollow of a tree
    Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place,
    That guard, and most unusual vigilance,
    Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'scape,
    I will preserve myself: and am bethought
    To take the basest and most poorest shape
    That ever penury, in contempt of man,
    Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth;
    Blanket my loins: elf all my hair in knots;
    And with presented nakedness out-face
    The winds and persecutions of the sky.
    The country gives me proof and precedent
    Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
    Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
    Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
    And with this horrible object, from low farms,
    Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,
    Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
    Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!
    That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am.

    [Exit]




    KING LEAR


ACT II



SCENE IV    Before GLOUCESTER's castle. KENT in the stocks.


    [Enter KING LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman]

KING LEAR    'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
    And not send back my messenger.

Gentleman    As I learn'd,
    The night before there was no purpose in them
    Of this remove.

KENT                      Hail to thee, noble master!

KING LEAR    Ha!
    Makest thou this shame thy pastime?

KENT    No, my lord.

Fool    Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied
    by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by
    the loins, and men by the legs: when a man's
    over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden
    nether-stocks.

KING LEAR    What's he that hath so much thy place mistook
    To set thee here?

KENT                      It is both he and she;
    Your son and daughter.

KING LEAR    No.

KENT    Yes.

KING LEAR    No, I say.

KENT    I say, yea.

KING LEAR    No, no, they would not.

KENT    Yes, they have.

KING LEAR    By Jupiter, I swear, no.

KENT    By Juno, I swear, ay.

KING LEAR    They durst not do 't;
    They could not, would not do 't; 'tis worse than murder,
    To do upon respect such violent outrage:
    Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
    Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage,
    Coming from us.

KENT                      My lord, when at their home
    I did commend your highness' letters to them,
    Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
    My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
    Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
    From Goneril his mistress salutations;
    Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
    Which presently they read: on whose contents,
    They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse;
    Commanded me to follow, and attend
    The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
    And meeting here the other messenger,
    Whose welcome, I perceived, had poison'd mine,--
    Being the very fellow that of late
    Display'd so saucily against your highness,--
    Having more man than wit about me, drew:
    He raised the house with loud and coward cries.
    Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
    The shame which here it suffers.

Fool    Winter's not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way.
    Fathers that wear rags
    Do make their children blind;
    But fathers that bear bags
    Shall see their children kind.
    Fortune, that arrant whore,
    Ne'er turns the key to the poor.
    But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours
    for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.

KING LEAR    O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
    Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow,
    Thy element's below! Where is this daughter?

KENT    With the earl, sir, here within.

KING LEAR    Follow me not;
    Stay here.

    [Exit]

Gentleman    Made you no more offence but what you speak of?

KENT    None.
    How chance the king comes with so small a train?

Fool    And thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that
    question, thou hadst well deserved it.

KENT    Why, fool?

Fool    We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee
    there's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow
    their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and
    there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him
    that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel
    runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with
    following it: but the great one that goes up the
    hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man
    gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I
    would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.
    That sir which serves and seeks for gain,
    And follows but for form,
    Will pack when it begins to rain,
    And leave thee in the storm,
    But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
    And let the wise man fly:
    The knave turns fool that runs away;
    The fool no knave, perdy.

KENT    Where learned you this, fool?

Fool    Not i' the stocks, fool.

    [Re-enter KING LEAR with GLOUCESTER]

KING LEAR    Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
    They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches;
    The images of revolt and flying off.
    Fetch me a better answer.

GLOUCESTER    My dear lord,
    You know the fiery quality of the duke;
    How unremoveable and fix'd he is
    In his own course.

KING LEAR    Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!
    Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
    I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.

GLOUCESTER    Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.

KING LEAR    Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man?

GLOUCESTER    Ay, my good lord.

KING LEAR    The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father
    Would with his daughter speak, commands her service:
    Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood!
    Fiery? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke that--
    No, but not yet: may be he is not well:
    Infirmity doth still neglect all office
    Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves
    When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
    To suffer with the body: I'll forbear;
    And am fall'n out with my more headier will,
    To take the indisposed and sickly fit
    For the sound man. Death on my state! wherefore

    [Looking on KENT]

    Should he sit here? This act persuades me
    That this remotion of the duke and her
    Is practise only. Give me my servant forth.
    Go tell the duke and 's wife I'ld speak with them,
    Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
    Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum
    Till it cry sleep to death.

GLOUCESTER    I would have all well betwixt you.

    [Exit]

KING LEAR    O me, my heart, my rising heart! but, down!

Fool    Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels
    when she put 'em i' the paste alive; she knapped 'em
    o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried 'Down,
    wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother that, in pure
    kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

    [Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants]

KING LEAR    Good morrow to you both.

CORNWALL    Hail to your grace!

    [KENT is set at liberty]

REGAN    I am glad to see your highness.

KING LEAR    Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
    I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad,
    I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
    Sepulchring an adultress.

    [To KENT]

            O, are you free?
    Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,
    Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied
    Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here:

    [Points to his heart]

    I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe
    With how depraved a quality--O Regan!

REGAN    I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope.
    You less know how to value her desert
    Than she to scant her duty.

KING LEAR    Say, how is that?

REGAN    I cannot think my sister in the least
    Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance
    She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,
    'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
    As clears her from all blame.

KING LEAR    My curses on her!

REGAN                      O, sir, you are old.
    Nature in you stands on the very verge
    Of her confine: you should be ruled and led
    By some discretion, that discerns your state
    Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
    That to our sister you do make return;
    Say you have wrong'd her, sir.

KING LEAR    Ask her forgiveness?
    Do you but mark how this becomes the house:
    'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;

    [Kneeling]

    Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg
    That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.'

REGAN    Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks:
    Return you to my sister.

KING LEAR    [Rising]  Never, Regan:
    She hath abated me of half my train;
    Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
    Most serpent-like, upon the very heart:
    All the stored vengeances of heaven fall
    On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
    You taking airs, with lameness!

CORNWALL    Fie, sir, fie!

KING LEAR    You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
    Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
    You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
    To fall and blast her pride!

REGAN    O the blest gods! so will you wish on me,
    When the rash mood is on.

KING LEAR    No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse:
    Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
    Thee o'er to harshness: her eyes are fierce; but thine
    Do comfort and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
    To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
    To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
    And in conclusion to oppose the bolt
    Against my coming in: thou better know'st
    The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
    Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
    Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
    Wherein I thee endow'd.

REGAN    Good sir, to the purpose.

KING LEAR    Who put my man i' the stocks?

    [Tucket within]

CORNWALL    What trumpet's that?

REGAN    I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter,
    That she would soon be here.

    [Enter OSWALD]

               Is your lady come?

KING LEAR    This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride
    Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
    Out, varlet, from my sight!

CORNWALL    What means your grace?

KING LEAR    Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope
    Thou didst not know on't. Who comes here? O heavens,

    [Enter GONERIL]

    If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
    Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,
    Make it your cause; send down, and take my part!

    [To GONERIL]

    Art not ashamed to look upon this beard?
    O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?

GONERIL    Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?
    All's not offence that indiscretion finds
    And dotage terms so.

KING LEAR    O sides, you are too tough;
    Will you yet hold? How came my man i' the stocks?

CORNWALL    I set him there, sir: but his own disorders
    Deserved much less advancement.

KING LEAR    You! did you?

REGAN    I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
    If, till the expiration of your month,
    You will return and sojourn with my sister,
    Dismissing half your train, come then to me:
    I am now from home, and out of that provision
    Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

KING LEAR    Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?
    No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
    To wage against the enmity o' the air;
    To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,--
    Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her?
    Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
    Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
    To knee his throne, and, squire-like; pension beg
    To keep base life afoot. Return with her?
    Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
    To this detested groom.

    [Pointing at OSWALD]

GONERIL    At your choice, sir.

KING LEAR    I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad:
    I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:
    We'll no more meet, no more see one another:
    But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
    Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
    Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil,
    A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle,
    In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee;
    Let shame come when it will, I do not call it:
    I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
    Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:
    Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure:
    I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
    I and my hundred knights.

REGAN    Not altogether so:
    I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
    For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;
    For those that mingle reason with your passion
    Must be content to think you old, and so--
    But she knows what she does.

KING LEAR    Is this well spoken?

REGAN    I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers?
    Is it not well? What should you need of more?
    Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger
    Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house,
    Should many people, under two commands,
    Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible.

GONERIL    Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
    From those that she calls servants or from mine?

REGAN    Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you,
    We could control them. If you will come to me,--
    For now I spy a danger,--I entreat you
    To bring but five and twenty: to no more
    Will I give place or notice.

KING LEAR    I gave you all--

REGAN                      And in good time you gave it.

KING LEAR    Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
    But kept a reservation to be follow'd
    With such a number. What, must I come to you
    With five and twenty, Regan? said you so?

REGAN    And speak't again, my lord; no more with me.

KING LEAR    Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd,
    When others are more wicked: not being the worst
    Stands in some rank of praise.

    [To GONERIL]

                 I'll go with thee:
    Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty,
    And thou art twice her love.

GONERIL    Hear me, my lord;
    What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
    To follow in a house where twice so many
    Have a command to tend you?

REGAN    What need one?

KING LEAR    O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
    Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
    Allow not nature more than nature needs,
    Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
    If only to go warm were gorgeous,
    Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
    Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,--
    You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
    You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
    As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
    If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
    Against their father, fool me not so much
    To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
    And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
    Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
    I will have such revenges on you both,
    That all the world shall--I will do such things,--
    What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be
    The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep
    No, I'll not weep:
    I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
    Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
    Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!

    [Exeunt KING LEAR, GLOUCESTER, KENT, and Fool]

    [Storm and tempest]

CORNWALL    Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm.

REGAN    This house is little: the old man and his people
    Cannot be well bestow'd.

GONERIL    'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest,
    And must needs taste his folly.

REGAN    For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,
    But not one follower.

GONERIL    So am I purposed.
    Where is my lord of Gloucester?

CORNWALL    Follow'd the old man forth: he is return'd.

    [Re-enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER    The king is in high rage.

CORNWALL    Whither is he going?

GLOUCESTER    He calls to horse; but will I know not whither.

CORNWALL    'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.

GONERIL    My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.

GLOUCESTER    Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds
    Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about
    There's scarce a bush.

REGAN    O, sir, to wilful men,
    The injuries that they themselves procure
    Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors:
    He is attended with a desperate train;
    And what they may incense him to, being apt
    To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.

CORNWALL    Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night:
    My Regan counsels well; come out o' the storm.

    [Exeunt]



    KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE I    A heath.


    [Storm still. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting]

KENT    Who's there, besides foul weather?

Gentleman    One minded like the weather, most unquietly.

KENT    I know you. Where's the king?

Gentleman    Contending with the fretful element:
    Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea,
    Or swell the curled water 'bove the main,
    That things might change or cease; tears his white hair,
    Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
    Catch in their fury, and make nothing of;
    Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
    The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.
    This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
    The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
    Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
    And bids what will take all.

KENT    But who is with him?

Gentleman    None but the fool; who labours to out-jest
    His heart-struck injuries.

KENT    Sir, I do know you;
    And dare, upon the warrant of my note,
    Commend a dear thing to you. There is division,
    Although as yet the face of it be cover'd
    With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall;
    Who have--as who have not, that their great stars
    Throned and set high?--servants, who seem no less,
    Which are to France the spies and speculations
    Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen,
    Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes,
    Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
    Against the old kind king; or something deeper,
    Whereof perchance these are but furnishings;
    But, true it is, from France there comes a power
    Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already,
    Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
    In some of our best ports, and are at point
    To show their open banner. Now to you:
    If on my credit you dare build so far
    To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
    Some that will thank you, making just report
    Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
    The king hath cause to plain.
    I am a gentleman of blood and breeding;
    And, from some knowledge and assurance, offer
    This office to you.

Gentleman    I will talk further with you.

KENT    No, do not.
    For confirmation that I am much more
    Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take
    What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,--
    As fear not but you shall,--show her this ring;
    And she will tell you who your fellow is
    That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
    I will go seek the king.

Gentleman    Give me your hand: have you no more to say?

KENT    Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet;
    That, when we have found the king,--in which your pain
    That way, I'll this,--he that first lights on him
    Holla the other.

    [Exeunt severally]




    KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE II    Another part of the heath. Storm still.


    [Enter KING LEAR and Fool]

KING LEAR    Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
    You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
    Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
    You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
    Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
    Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
    Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
    Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
    That make ingrateful man!

Fool    O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry
    house is better than this rain-water out o' door.
    Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing:
    here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool.

KING LEAR    Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
    Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
    I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
    I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
    You owe me no subscription: then let fall
    Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave,
    A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man:
    But yet I call you servile ministers,
    That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
    Your high engender'd battles 'gainst a head
    So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!

Fool    He that has a house to put's head in has a good
    head-piece.
    The cod-piece that will house
    Before the head has any,
    The head and he shall louse;
    So beggars marry many.
    The man that makes his toe
    What he his heart should make
    Shall of a corn cry woe,
    And turn his sleep to wake.
    For there was never yet fair woman but she made
    mouths in a glass.

KING LEAR    No, I will be the pattern of all patience;
    I will say nothing.

    [Enter KENT]

KENT    Who's there?

Fool    Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wise
    man and a fool.

KENT    Alas, sir, are you here? things that love night
    Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies
    Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,
    And make them keep their caves: since I was man,
    Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
    Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
    Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry
    The affliction nor the fear.

KING LEAR    Let the great gods,
    That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
    Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
    That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
    Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand;
    Thou perjured, and thou simular man of virtue
    That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake,
    That under covert and convenient seeming
    Hast practised on man's life: close pent-up guilts,
    Rive your concealing continents, and cry
    These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man
    More sinn'd against than sinning.

KENT    Alack, bare-headed!
    Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;
    Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest:
    Repose you there; while I to this hard house--
    More harder than the stones whereof 'tis raised;
    Which even but now, demanding after you,
    Denied me to come in--return, and force
    Their scanted courtesy.

KING LEAR    My wits begin to turn.
    Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art cold?
    I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow?
    The art of our necessities is strange,
    That can make vile things precious. Come,
    your hovel.
    Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
    That's sorry yet for thee.

Fool    [Singing]

    He that has and a little tiny wit--
    With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,--
    Must make content with his fortunes fit,
    For the rain it raineth every day.

KING LEAR    True, my good boy. Come, bring us to this hovel.

    [Exeunt KING LEAR and KENT]

Fool    This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.
    I'll speak a prophecy ere I go:
    When priests are more in word than matter;
    When brewers mar their malt with water;
    When nobles are their tailors' tutors;
    No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors;
    When every case in law is right;
    No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
    When slanders do not live in tongues;
    Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
    When usurers tell their gold i' the field;
    And bawds and whores do churches build;
    Then shall the realm of Albion
    Come to great confusion:
    Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
    That going shall be used with feet.
    This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time.

    [Exit]




    KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE III    Gloucester's castle.


    [Enter GLOUCESTER and EDMUND]

GLOUCESTER    Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural
    dealing. When I desire their leave that I might
    pity him, they took from me the use of mine own
    house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual
    displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for
    him, nor any way sustain him.

EDMUND    Most savage and unnatural!

GLOUCESTER    Go to; say you nothing. There's a division betwixt
    the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have
    received a letter this night; 'tis dangerous to be
    spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet:
    these injuries the king now bears will be revenged
    home; there's part of a power already footed: we
    must incline to the king. I will seek him, and
    privily relieve him: go you and maintain talk with
    the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived:
    if he ask for me. I am ill, and gone to bed.
    Though I die for it, as no less is threatened me,
    the king my old master must be relieved. There is
    some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful.

    [Exit]

EDMUND    This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke
    Instantly know; and of that letter too:
    This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
    That which my father loses; no less than all:
    The younger rises when the old doth fall.

    [Exit]




    KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE IV    The heath. Before a hovel.


    [Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool]

KENT    Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
    The tyranny of the open night's too rough
    For nature to endure.

    [Storm still]

KING LEAR    Let me alone.

KENT    Good my lord, enter here.

KING LEAR    Wilt break my heart?

KENT    I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.

KING LEAR    Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
    Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee;
    But where the greater malady is fix'd,
    The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'ldst shun a bear;
    But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
    Thou'ldst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the
    mind's free,
    The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
    Doth from my senses take all feeling else
    Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
    Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
    For lifting food to't? But I will punish home:
    No, I will weep no more. In such a night
    To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure.
    In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!
    Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,--
    O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
    No more of that.

KENT                      Good my lord, enter here.

KING LEAR    Prithee, go in thyself: seek thine own ease:
    This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
    On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in.

    [To the Fool]

    In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty,--
    Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.

    [Fool goes in]

    Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are,
    That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
    How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
    Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
    From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
    Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
    Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
    That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
    And show the heavens more just.

EDGAR    [Within]  Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!

    [The Fool runs out from the hovel]

Fool    Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit
    Help me, help me!

KENT    Give me thy hand. Who's there?

Fool    A spirit, a spirit: he says his name's poor Tom.

KENT    What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw?
    Come forth.

    [Enter EDGAR disguised as a mad man]

EDGAR    Away! the foul fiend follows me!
    Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind.
    Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

KING LEAR    Hast thou given all to thy two daughters?
    And art thou come to this?

EDGAR    Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul
    fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and
    through ford and whirlipool e'er bog and quagmire;
    that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters
    in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made film
    proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over
    four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a
    traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold,--O, do
    de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds,
    star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some
    charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I
    have him now,--and there,--and there again, and there.

    [Storm still]

KING LEAR    What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
    Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all?

Fool    Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.

KING LEAR    Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air
    Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters!

KENT    He hath no daughters, sir.

KING LEAR    Death, traitor! nothing could have subdued nature
    To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.
    Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
    Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
    Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
    Those pelican daughters.

EDGAR    Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill:
    Halloo, halloo, loo, loo!

Fool    This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

EDGAR    Take heed o' the foul fiend: obey thy parents;
    keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with
    man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud
    array. Tom's a-cold.

KING LEAR    What hast thou been?

EDGAR    A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled
    my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of
    my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with
    her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and
    broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that
    slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it:
    wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman
    out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of
    ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,
    wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
    Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of
    silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot
    out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen
    from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.
    Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind:
    Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny.
    Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.

    [Storm still]

KING LEAR    Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer
    with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies.
    Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou
    owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep
    no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on
    's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself:
    unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare,
    forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings!
    come unbutton here.

    [Tearing off his clothes]

Fool    Prithee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night
    to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were
    like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all the
    rest on's body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.

    [Enter GLOUCESTER, with a torch]

EDGAR    This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins
    at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives
    the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the
    hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the
    poor creature of earth.
    S. Withold footed thrice the old;
    He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
    Bid her alight,
    And her troth plight,
    And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!

KENT    How fares your grace?

KING LEAR    What's he?

KENT    Who's there? What is't you seek?

GLOUCESTER    What are you there? Your names?

EDGAR    Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad,
    the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in
    the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages,
    eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and
    the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the
    standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to
    tithing, and stock- punished, and imprisoned; who
    hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his
    body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear;
    But mice and rats, and such small deer,
    Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
    Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend!

GLOUCESTER    What, hath your grace no better company?

EDGAR    The prince of darkness is a gentleman:
    Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.

GLOUCESTER    Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord,
    That it doth hate what gets it.

EDGAR    Poor Tom's a-cold.

GLOUCESTER    Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer
    To obey in all your daughters' hard commands:
    Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
    And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
    Yet have I ventured to come seek you out,
    And bring you where both fire and food is ready.

KING LEAR    First let me talk with this philosopher.
    What is the cause of thunder?

KENT    Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house.

KING LEAR    I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.
    What is your study?

EDGAR    How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.

KING LEAR    Let me ask you one word in private.

KENT    Importune him once more to go, my lord;
    His wits begin to unsettle.

GLOUCESTER    Canst thou blame him?

    [Storm still]

    His daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent!
    He said it would be thus, poor banish'd man!
    Thou say'st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
    I am almost mad myself: I had a son,
    Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life,
    But lately, very late: I loved him, friend;
    No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee,
    The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this!
    I do beseech your grace,--

KING LEAR    O, cry your mercy, sir.
    Noble philosopher, your company.

EDGAR    Tom's a-cold.

GLOUCESTER    In, fellow, there, into the hovel: keep thee warm.

KING LEAR    Come let's in all.

KENT                      This way, my lord.

KING LEAR    With him;
    I will keep still with my philosopher.

KENT    Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.

GLOUCESTER    Take him you on.

KENT    Sirrah, come on; go along with us.

KING LEAR    Come, good Athenian.

GLOUCESTER    No words, no words: hush.

EDGAR          Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
    His word was still,--Fie, foh, and fum,
    I smell the blood of a British man.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE V    Gloucester's castle.


    [Enter CORNWALL and EDMUND]

CORNWALL    I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.

EDMUND    How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus
    gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think
    of.

CORNWALL    I now perceive, it was not altogether your
    brother's evil disposition made him seek his death;
    but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reprovable
    badness in himself.

EDMUND    How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to
    be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which
    approves him an intelligent party to the advantages
    of France: O heavens! that this treason were not,
    or not I the detector!

CORNWALL    o with me to the duchess.

EDMUND    If the matter of this paper be certain, you have
    mighty business in hand.

CORNWALL    True or false, it hath made thee earl of
    Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he
    may be ready for our apprehension.

EDMUND    [Aside]  If I find him comforting the king, it will
    stuff his suspicion more fully.--I will persevere in
    my course of loyalty, though the conflict be sore
    between that and my blood.

CORNWALL    I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a
    dearer father in my love.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE VI    A chamber in a farmhouse adjoining the castle.


    [Enter GLOUCESTER, KING LEAR, KENT, Fool, and EDGAR]

GLOUCESTER    Here is better than the open air; take it
    thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what
    addition I can: I will not be long from you.

KENT    All the power of his wits have given way to his
    impatience: the gods reward your kindness!

    [Exit GLOUCESTER]

EDGAR    Frateretto calls me; and tells me
    Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness.
    Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend.

Fool    Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a
    gentleman or a yeoman?

KING LEAR    A king, a king!

Fool    No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son;
    for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman
    before him.

KING LEAR    To have a thousand with red burning spits
    Come hissing in upon 'em,--

EDGAR    The foul fiend bites my back.

Fool    He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a
    horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.

KING LEAR    It shall be done; I will arraign them straight.

    [To EDGAR]

    Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer;

    [To the Fool]

    Thou, sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she foxes!

EDGAR       Look, where he stands and glares!
    Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam?
    Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me,--

Fool       Her boat hath a leak,
    And she must not speak
    Why she dares not come over to thee.

EDGAR    The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a
    nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two
    white herring. Croak not, black angel; I have no
    food for thee.

KENT    How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed:
    Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions?

KING LEAR    I'll see their trial first. Bring in the evidence.

    [To EDGAR]

    Thou robed man of justice, take thy place;

    [To the Fool]

    And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity,
    Bench by his side:

    [To KENT]

    you are o' the commission,
    Sit you too.

EDGAR    Let us deal justly.
    Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd?
    Thy sheep be in the corn;
    And for one blast of thy minikin mouth,
    Thy sheep shall take no harm.
    Pur! the cat is gray.

KING LEAR    Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my
    oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the
    poor king her father.

Fool    Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?

KING LEAR    She cannot deny it.

Fool    Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool.

KING LEAR    And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim
    What store her heart is made on. Stop her there!
    Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place!
    False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape?

EDGAR    Bless thy five wits!

KENT    O pity! Sir, where is the patience now,
    That thou so oft have boasted to retain?

EDGAR    [Aside]  My tears begin to take his part so much,
    They'll mar my counterfeiting.

KING LEAR    The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and
    Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me.

EDGAR    Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs!
    Be thy mouth or black or white,
    Tooth that poisons if it bite;
    Mastiff, grey-hound, mongrel grim,
    Hound or spaniel, brach or lym,
    Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail,
    Tom will make them weep and wail:
    For, with throwing thus my head,
    Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
    Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and
    fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.

KING LEAR    Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds
    about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that
    makes these hard hearts?

    [To EDGAR]

    You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I
    do not like the fashion of your garments: you will
    say they are Persian attire: but let them be changed.

KENT    Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile.

KING LEAR    Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains:
    so, so, so. We'll go to supper i' he morning. So, so, so.

Fool    And I'll go to bed at noon.

    [Re-enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER    Come hither, friend: where is the king my master?

KENT    Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone.

GLOUCESTER    Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms;
    I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him:
    There is a litter ready; lay him in 't,
    And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
    Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master:
    If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life,
    With thine, and all that offer to defend him,
    Stand in assured loss: take up, take up;
    And follow me, that will to some provision
    Give thee quick conduct.

KENT    Oppressed nature sleeps:
    This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses,
    Which, if convenience will not allow,
    Stand in hard cure.

    [To the Fool]

    Come, help to bear thy master;
    Thou must not stay behind.

GLOUCESTER    Come, come, away.

    [Exeunt all but EDGAR]

EDGAR    When we our betters see bearing our woes,
    We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
    Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind,
    Leaving free things and happy shows behind:
    But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er skip,
    When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
    How light and portable my pain seems now,
    When that which makes me bend makes the king bow,
    He childed as I father'd! Tom, away!
    Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray,
    When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee,
    In thy just proof, repeals and reconciles thee.
    What will hap more to-night, safe 'scape the king!
    Lurk, lurk.

    [Exit]




    KING LEAR


ACT III



SCENE VII    Gloucester's castle.


    [Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GONERIL, EDMUND, and Servants]

CORNWALL    Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him
    this letter: the army of France is landed. Seek
    out the villain Gloucester.

    [Exeunt some of the Servants]

REGAN    Hang him instantly.

GONERIL    Pluck out his eyes.

CORNWALL    Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our
    sister company: the revenges we are bound to take
    upon your traitorous father are not fit for your
    beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to
    a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the
    like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent
    betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister: farewell, my
    lord of Gloucester.

    [Enter OSWALD]

    How now! where's the king?

OSWALD    My lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence:
    Some five or six and thirty of his knights,
    Hot questrists after him, met him at gate;
    Who, with some other of the lords dependants,
    Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast
    To have well-armed friends.

CORNWALL    Get horses for your mistress.

GONERIL    Farewell, sweet lord, and sister.

CORNWALL    Edmund, farewell.

    [Exeunt GONERIL, EDMUND, and OSWALD]

    Go seek the traitor Gloucester,
    Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us.

    [Exeunt other Servants]

    Though well we may not pass upon his life
    Without the form of justice, yet our power
    Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men
    May blame, but not control. Who's there? the traitor?

    [Enter GLOUCESTER, brought in by two or three]

REGAN    Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.

CORNWALL    Bind fast his corky arms.

GLOUCESTER    What mean your graces? Good my friends, consider
    You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.

CORNWALL    Bind him, I say.

    [Servants bind him]

REGAN                      Hard, hard. O filthy traitor!

GLOUCESTER    Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none.

CORNWALL    To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find--

    [REGAN plucks his beard]

GLOUCESTER    By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done
    To pluck me by the beard.

REGAN    So white, and such a traitor!

GLOUCESTER    Naughty lady,
    These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
    Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host:
    With robbers' hands my hospitable favours
    You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?

CORNWALL    Come, sir, what letters had you late from France?

REGAN    Be simple answerer, for we know the truth.

CORNWALL    And what confederacy have you with the traitors
    Late footed in the kingdom?

REGAN    To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? Speak.

GLOUCESTER    I have a letter guessingly set down,
    Which came from one that's of a neutral heart,
    And not from one opposed.

CORNWALL    Cunning.

REGAN    And false.

CORNWALL    Where hast thou sent the king?

GLOUCESTER    To Dover.

REGAN    Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charged at peril--

CORNWALL    Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that.

GLOUCESTER    I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course.

REGAN    Wherefore to Dover, sir?

GLOUCESTER    Because I would not see thy cruel nails
    Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
    In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
    The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
    In hell-black night endured, would have buoy'd up,
    And quench'd the stelled fires:
    Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
    If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
    Thou shouldst have said 'Good porter, turn the key,'
    All cruels else subscribed: but I shall see
    The winged vengeance overtake such children.

CORNWALL    See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
    Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.

GLOUCESTER    He that will think to live till he be old,
    Give me some help! O cruel! O you gods!

REGAN    One side will mock another; the other too.

CORNWALL    If you see vengeance,--

First Servant    Hold your hand, my lord:
    I have served you ever since I was a child;
    But better service have I never done you
    Than now to bid you hold.

REGAN    How now, you dog!

First Servant    If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
    I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?

CORNWALL    My villain!

    [They draw and fight]

First Servant    Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger.

REGAN    Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus!

    [Takes a sword, and runs at him behind]

First Servant    O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left
    To see some mischief on him. O!

    [Dies]

CORNWALL    Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly!
    Where is thy lustre now?

GLOUCESTER    All dark and comfortless. Where's my son Edmund?
    Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature,
    To quit this horrid act.

REGAN    Out, treacherous villain!
    Thou call'st on him that hates thee: it was he
    That made the overture of thy treasons to us;
    Who is too good to pity thee.

GLOUCESTER    O my follies! then Edgar was abused.
    Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!

REGAN    Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
    His way to Dover.

    [Exit one with GLOUCESTER]

    How is't, my lord? how look you?

CORNWALL    I have received a hurt: follow me, lady.
    Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave
    Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace:
    Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm.

    [Exit CORNWALL, led by REGAN]

Second Servant    I'll never care what wickedness I do,
    If this man come to good.

Third Servant    If she live long,
    And in the end meet the old course of death,
    Women will all turn monsters.

Second Servant    Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam
    To lead him where he would: his roguish madness
    Allows itself to any thing.

Third Servant    Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs
    To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him!

    [Exeunt severally]




    KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE I    The heath.


    [Enter EDGAR]

EDGAR    Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
    Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,
    The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,
    Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear:
    The lamentable change is from the best;
    The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then,
    Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!
    The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst
    Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here?

    [Enter GLOUCESTER, led by an Old Man]

    My father, poorly led? World, world, O world!
    But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,
    Lie would not yield to age.

Old Man    O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and
    your father's tenant, these fourscore years.

GLOUCESTER    Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone:
    Thy comforts can do me no good at all;
    Thee they may hurt.

Old Man    Alack, sir, you cannot see your way.

GLOUCESTER    I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
    I stumbled when I saw: full oft 'tis seen,
    Our means secure us, and our mere defects
    Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar,
    The food of thy abused father's wrath!
    Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
    I'ld say I had eyes again!

Old Man    How now! Who's there?

EDGAR    [Aside]  O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at
    the worst'?
    I am worse than e'er I was.

Old Man    'Tis poor mad Tom.

EDGAR    [Aside]  And worse I may be yet: the worst is not
    So long as we can say  'This is the worst.'

Old Man    Fellow, where goest?

GLOUCESTER    Is it a beggar-man?

Old Man    Madman and beggar too.

GLOUCESTER    He has some reason, else he could not beg.
    I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw;
    Which made me think a man a worm: my son
    Came then into my mind; and yet my mind
    Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard
    more since.
    As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods.
    They kill us for their sport.

EDGAR    [Aside]    How should this be?
    Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
    Angering itself and others.--Bless thee, master!

GLOUCESTER    Is that the naked fellow?

Old Man    Ay, my lord.

GLOUCESTER    Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for my sake,
    Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,
    I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;
    And bring some covering for this naked soul,
    Who I'll entreat to lead me.

Old Man    Alack, sir, he is mad.

GLOUCESTER    'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
    Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;
    Above the rest, be gone.

Old Man    I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,
    Come on't what will.

    [Exit]

GLOUCESTER    Sirrah, naked fellow,--

EDGAR    Poor Tom's a-cold.

    [Aside]

    I cannot daub it further.

GLOUCESTER    Come hither, fellow.

EDGAR    [Aside]  And yet I must.--Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

GLOUCESTER    Know'st thou the way to Dover?

EDGAR    Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor
    Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: bless
    thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! five
    fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as
    Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of
    stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of
    mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids
    and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master!

GLOUCESTER    Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues
    Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched
    Makes thee the happier: heavens, deal so still!
    Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,
    That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
    Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly;
    So distribution should undo excess,
    And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?

EDGAR    Ay, master.

GLOUCESTER    There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
    Looks fearfully in the confined deep:
    Bring me but to the very brim of it,
    And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear
    With something rich about me: from that place
    I shall no leading need.

EDGAR    Give me thy arm:
    Poor Tom shall lead thee.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE II    Before ALBANY's palace.


    [Enter GONERIL and EDMUND]

GONERIL    Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband
    Not met us on the way.

    [Enter OSWALD]

         Now, where's your master'?

OSWALD    Madam, within; but never man so changed.
    I told him of the army that was landed;
    He smiled at it: I told him you were coming:
    His answer was 'The worse:' of Gloucester's treachery,
    And of the loyal service of his son,
    When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot,
    And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:
    What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
    What like, offensive.

GONERIL    [To EDMUND]  Then shall you go no further.
    It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
    That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs
    Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
    May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
    Hasten his musters and conduct his powers:
    I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
    Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
    Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear,
    If you dare venture in your own behalf,
    A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech;

    [Giving a favour]

    Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,
    Would stretch thy spirits up into the air:
    Conceive, and fare thee well.

EDMUND    Yours in the ranks of death.

GONERIL    My most dear Gloucester!

    [Exit EDMUND]

    O, the difference of man and man!
    To thee a woman's services are due:
    My fool usurps my body.

OSWALD    Madam, here comes my lord.

    [Exit]

    [Enter ALBANY]

GONERIL    I have been worth the whistle.

ALBANY    O Goneril!
    You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
    Blows in your face. I fear your disposition:
    That nature, which contemns its origin,
    Cannot be border'd certain in itself;
    She that herself will sliver and disbranch
    From her material sap, perforce must wither
    And come to deadly use.

GONERIL    No more; the text is foolish.

ALBANY    Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile:
    Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
    Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
    A father, and a gracious aged man,
    Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick,
    Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
    Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
    A man, a prince, by him so benefited!
    If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
    Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
    It will come,
    Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
    Like monsters of the deep.

GONERIL    Milk-liver'd man!
    That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
    Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
    Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st
    Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd
    Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
    France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
    With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats;
    Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest
    'Alack, why does he so?'

ALBANY    See thyself, devil!
    Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
    So horrid as in woman.

GONERIL    O vain fool!

ALBANY    Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame,
    Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness
    To let these hands obey my blood,
    They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
    Thy flesh and bones: howe'er thou art a fiend,
    A woman's shape doth shield thee.

GONERIL    Marry, your manhood now--

    [Enter a Messenger]

ALBANY    What news?

Messenger    O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:
    Slain by his servant, going to put out
    The other eye of Gloucester.

ALBANY    Gloucester's eye!

Messenger    A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
    Opposed against the act, bending his sword
    To his great master; who, thereat enraged,
    Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead;
    But not without that harmful stroke, which since
    Hath pluck'd him after.

ALBANY    This shows you are above,
    You justicers, that these our nether crimes
    So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!
    Lost he his other eye?

Messenger    Both, both, my lord.
    This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
    'Tis from your sister.

GONERIL    [Aside]              One way I like this well;
    But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,
    May all the building in my fancy pluck
    Upon my hateful life: another way,
    The news is not so tart.--I'll read, and answer.

    [Exit]

ALBANY    Where was his son when they did take his eyes?

Messenger    Come with my lady hither.

ALBANY    He is not here.

Messenger    No, my good lord; I met him back again.

ALBANY    Knows he the wickedness?

Messenger    Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him;
    And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
    Might have the freer course.

ALBANY    Gloucester, I live
    To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
    And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend:
    Tell me what more thou know'st.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE III    The French camp near Dover.


    [Enter KENT and a Gentleman]

KENT    Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back
    know you the reason?

Gentleman    Something he left imperfect in the
    state, which since his coming forth is thought
    of; which imports to the kingdom so much
    fear and danger, that his personal return was
    most required and necessary.

KENT    Who hath he left behind him general?

Gentleman    The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.

KENT    Did your letters pierce the queen to any
    demonstration of grief?

Gentleman    Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence;
    And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
    Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen
    Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,
    Sought to be king o'er her.

KENT    O, then it moved her.

Gentleman    Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove
    Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
    Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
    Were like a better way: those happy smilets,
    That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
    What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
    As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,
    Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,
    If all could so become it.

KENT    Made she no verbal question?

Gentleman    'Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of 'father'
    Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart:
    Cried 'Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters!
    Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night?
    Let pity not be believed!' There she shook
    The holy water from her heavenly eyes,
    And clamour moisten'd: then away she started
    To deal with grief alone.

KENT    It is the stars,
    The stars above us, govern our conditions;
    Else one self mate and mate could not beget
    Such different issues. You spoke not with her since?

Gentleman    No.

KENT    Was this before the king return'd?

Gentleman    No, since.

KENT    Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the town;
    Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers
    What we are come about, and by no means
    Will yield to see his daughter.

Gentleman    Why, good sir?

KENT    A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness,
    That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
    To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
    To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting
    His mind so venomously, that burning shame
    Detains him from Cordelia.

Gentleman    Alack, poor gentleman!

KENT    Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not?

Gentleman    'Tis so, they are afoot.

KENT    Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
    And leave you to attend him: some dear cause
    Will in concealment wrap me up awhile;
    When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
    Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
    Along with me.

    [Exeunt]



    KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE IV    The same. A tent.


    [Enter, with drum and colours, CORDELIA, Doctor, and Soldiers]

CORDELIA    Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now
    As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud;
    Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
    With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
    Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
    In our sustaining corn. A century send forth;
    Search every acre in the high-grown field,
    And bring him to our eye.

    [Exit an Officer]

            What can man's wisdom
    In the restoring his bereaved sense?
    He that helps him take all my outward worth.

Doctor    There is means, madam:
    Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,
    The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
    Are many simples operative, whose power
    Will close the eye of anguish.

CORDELIA    All blest secrets,
    All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
    Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate
    In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him;
    Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
    That wants the means to lead it.

    [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger    News, madam;
    The British powers are marching hitherward.

CORDELIA    'Tis known before; our preparation stands
    In expectation of them. O dear father,
    It is thy business that I go about;
    Therefore great France
    My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
    No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
    But love, dear love, and our aged father's right:
    Soon may I hear and see him!

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE V    Gloucester's castle.


    [Enter REGAN and OSWALD]

REGAN    But are my brother's powers set forth?

OSWALD    Ay, madam.

REGAN    Himself in person there?

OSWALD    Madam, with much ado:
    Your sister is the better soldier.

REGAN    Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?

OSWALD    No, madam.

REGAN    What might import my sister's letter to him?

OSWALD    I know not, lady.

REGAN    'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
    It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out,
    To let him live: where he arrives he moves
    All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,
    In pity of his misery, to dispatch
    His nighted life: moreover, to descry
    The strength o' the enemy.

OSWALD    I must needs after him, madam, with my letter.

REGAN    Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay with us;
    The ways are dangerous.

OSWALD    I may not, madam:
    My lady charged my duty in this business.

REGAN    Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you
    Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
    Something--I know not what: I'll love thee much,
    Let me unseal the letter.

OSWALD    Madam, I had rather--

REGAN    I know your lady does not love her husband;
    I am sure of that: and at her late being here
    She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks
    To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.

OSWALD    I, madam?

REGAN    I speak in understanding; you are; I know't:
    Therefore I do advise you, take this note:
    My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd;
    And more convenient is he for my hand
    Than for your lady's: you may gather more.
    If you do find him, pray you, give him this;
    And when your mistress hears thus much from you,
    I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.
    So, fare you well.
    If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
    Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.

OSWALD    Would I could meet him, madam! I should show
    What party I do follow.

REGAN    Fare thee well.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE VI    Fields near Dover.


    [Enter GLOUCESTER, and EDGAR dressed like a peasant]

GLOUCESTER    When shall we come to the top of that same hill?

EDGAR    You do climb up it now: look, how we labour.

GLOUCESTER    Methinks the ground is even.

EDGAR    Horrible steep.
    Hark, do you hear the sea?

GLOUCESTER    No, truly.

EDGAR    Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect
    By your eyes' anguish.

GLOUCESTER    So may it be, indeed:
    Methinks thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st
    In better phrase and matter than thou didst.

EDGAR    You're much deceived: in nothing am I changed
    But in my garments.

GLOUCESTER    Methinks you're better spoken.

EDGAR    Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful
    And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low!
    The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
    Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down
    Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!
    Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
    The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
    Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
    Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
    Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
    That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
    Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more;
    Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
    Topple down headlong.

GLOUCESTER    Set me where you stand.

EDGAR    Give me your hand: you are now within a foot
    Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
    Would I not leap upright.

GLOUCESTER    Let go my hand.
    Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel
    Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and gods
    Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off;
    Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.

EDGAR    Now fare you well, good sir.

GLOUCESTER    With all my heart.

EDGAR    Why I do trifle thus with his despair
    Is done to cure it.

GLOUCESTER    [Kneeling]  O you mighty gods!
    This world I do renounce, and, in your sights,
    Shake patiently my great affliction off:
    If I could bear it longer, and not fall
    To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
    My snuff and loathed part of nature should
    Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!
    Now, fellow, fare thee well.

    [He falls forward]

EDGAR    Gone, sir: farewell.
    And yet I know not how conceit may rob
    The treasury of life, when life itself
    Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought,
    By this, had thought been past. Alive or dead?
    Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak!
    Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives.
    What are you, sir?

GLOUCESTER                      Away, and let me die.

EDGAR    Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,
    So many fathom down precipitating,
    Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe;
    Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound.
    Ten masts at each make not the altitude
    Which thou hast perpendicularly fell:
    Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again.

GLOUCESTER    But have I fall'n, or no?

EDGAR    From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
    Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so far
    Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up.

GLOUCESTER    Alack, I have no eyes.
    Is wretchedness deprived that benefit,
    To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort,
    When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage,
    And frustrate his proud will.

EDGAR    Give me your arm:
    Up: so. How is 't? Feel you your legs? You stand.

GLOUCESTER    Too well, too well.

EDGAR    This is above all strangeness.
    Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that
    Which parted from you?

GLOUCESTER    A poor unfortunate beggar.

EDGAR    As I stood here below, methought his eyes
    Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,
    Horns whelk'd and waved like the enridged sea:
    It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father,
    Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours
    Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee.

GLOUCESTER    I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
    Affliction till it do cry out itself
    'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of,
    I took it for a man; often 'twould say
    'The fiend, the fiend:' he led me to that place.

EDGAR    Bear free and patient thoughts. But who comes here?

    [Enter KING LEAR, fantastically dressed with wild flowers]

    The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
    His master thus.

KING LEAR    No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the
    king himself.

EDGAR    O thou side-piercing sight!

KING LEAR    Nature's above art in that respect. There's your
    press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a
    crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look,
    look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted
    cheese will do 't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove
    it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well
    flown, bird! i' the clout, i' the clout: hewgh!
    Give the word.

EDGAR    Sweet marjoram.

KING LEAR    Pass.

GLOUCESTER    I know that voice.

KING LEAR    Ha! Goneril, with a white beard! They flattered
    me like a dog; and told me I had white hairs in my
    beard ere the black ones were there. To say 'ay'
    and 'no' to every thing that I said!--'Ay' and 'no'
    too was no good divinity. When the rain came to
    wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when
    the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I
    found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are
    not men o' their words: they told me I was every
    thing; 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.

GLOUCESTER    The trick of that voice I do well remember:
    Is 't not the king?

KING LEAR    Ay, every inch a king:
    When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
    I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery?
    Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! No:
    The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly
    Does lecher in my sight.
    Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son
    Was kinder to his father than my daughters
    Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
    To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.
    Behold yond simpering dame,
    Whose face between her forks presages snow;
    That minces virtue, and does shake the head
    To hear of pleasure's name;
    The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't
    With a more riotous appetite.
    Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
    Though women all above:
    But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
    Beneath is all the fiends';
    There's hell, there's darkness, there's the
    sulphurous pit,
    Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie,
    fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet,
    good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination:
    there's money for thee.

GLOUCESTER    O, let me kiss that hand!

KING LEAR    Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

GLOUCESTER    O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
    Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me?

KING LEAR    I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny
    at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not
    love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the
    penning of it.

GLOUCESTER    Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.

EDGAR    I would not take this from report; it is,
    And my heart breaks at it.

KING LEAR    Read.

GLOUCESTER    What, with the case of eyes?

KING LEAR    O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your
    head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in
    a heavy case, your purse in a light; yet you see how
    this world goes.

GLOUCESTER    I see it feelingly.

KING LEAR    What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes
    with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yond
    justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in
    thine ear: change places; and, handy-dandy, which
    is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen
    a farmer's dog bark at a beggar?

GLOUCESTER    Ay, sir.

KING LEAR    And the creature run from the cur? There thou
    mightst behold the great image of authority: a
    dog's obeyed in office.
    Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!
    Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back;
    Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
    For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.
    Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
    Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
    And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
    Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
    None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em:
    Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
    To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
    And like a scurvy politician, seem
    To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now:
    Pull off my boots: harder, harder: so.

EDGAR    O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason in madness!

KING LEAR    If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
    I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester:
    Thou must be patient; we came crying hither:
    Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air,
    We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee: mark.

GLOUCESTER    Alack, alack the day!

KING LEAR    When we are born, we cry that we are come
    To this great stage of fools: this a good block;
    It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe
    A troop of horse with felt: I'll put 't in proof;
    And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law,
    Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

    [Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants]

Gentleman    O, here he is: lay hand upon him. Sir,
    Your most dear daughter--

KING LEAR    No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even
    The natural fool of fortune. Use me well;
    You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons;
    I am cut to the brains.

Gentleman    You shall have any thing.

KING LEAR    No seconds? all myself?
    Why, this would make a man a man of salt,
    To use his eyes for garden water-pots,
    Ay, and laying autumn's dust.

Gentleman    Good sir,--

KING LEAR    I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What!
    I will be jovial: come, come; I am a king,
    My masters, know you that.

Gentleman    You are a royal one, and we obey you.

KING LEAR    Then there's life in't. Nay, if you get it, you
    shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.

    [Exit running; Attendants follow]

Gentleman    A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
    Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter,
    Who redeems nature from the general curse
    Which twain have brought her to.

EDGAR    Hail, gentle sir.

Gentleman                      Sir, speed you: what's your will?

EDGAR    Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?

Gentleman    Most sure and vulgar: every one hears that,
    Which can distinguish sound.

EDGAR    But, by your favour,
    How near's the other army?

Gentleman    Near and on speedy foot; the main descry
    Stands on the hourly thought.

EDGAR    I thank you, sir: that's all.

Gentleman    Though that the queen on special cause is here,
    Her army is moved on.

EDGAR    I thank you, sir.

    [Exit Gentleman]

GLOUCESTER    You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me:
    Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
    To die before you please!

EDGAR    Well pray you, father.

GLOUCESTER    Now, good sir, what are you?

EDGAR    A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows;
    Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
    Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
    I'll lead you to some biding.

GLOUCESTER    Hearty thanks:
    The bounty and the benison of heaven
    To boot, and boot!

    [Enter OSWALD]

OSWALD    A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
    That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh
    To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
    Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out
    That must destroy thee.

GLOUCESTER    Now let thy friendly hand
    Put strength enough to't.

    [EDGAR interposes]

OSWALD    Wherefore, bold peasant,
    Darest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence;
    Lest that the infection of his fortune take
    Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

EDGAR    Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion.

OSWALD    Let go, slave, or thou diest!

EDGAR    Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk
    pass. An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life,
    'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight.
    Nay, come not near th' old man; keep out, che vor
    ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be
    the harder: ch'ill be plain with you.

OSWALD    Out, dunghill!

EDGAR    Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor
    your foins.

    [They fight, and EDGAR knocks him down]

OSWALD    Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse:
    If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
    And give the letters which thou find'st about me
    To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out
    Upon the British party: O, untimely death!

    [Dies]

EDGAR    I know thee well: a serviceable villain;
    As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
    As badness would desire.

GLOUCESTER    What, is he dead?

EDGAR    Sit you down, father; rest you
    Let's see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of
    May be my friends. He's dead; I am only sorry
    He had no other death's-man. Let us see:
    Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
    To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts;
    Their papers, is more lawful.

    [Reads]

    'Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have
    many opportunities to cut him off: if your will
    want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered.
    There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror:
    then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from
    the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply
    the place for your labour.
        'Your--wife, so I would say--
        'Affectionate servant,
        'GONERIL.'
    O undistinguish'd space of woman's will!
    A plot upon her virtuous husband's life;
    And the exchange my brother! Here, in the sands,
    Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
    Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time
    With this ungracious paper strike the sight
    Of the death practised duke: for him 'tis well
    That of thy death and business I can tell.

GLOUCESTER    The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense,
    That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling
    Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
    So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
    And woes by wrong imaginations lose
    The knowledge of themselves.

EDGAR    Give me your hand:

    [Drum afar off]

    Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum:
    Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT IV



SCENE VII    A tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed asleep,
    soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending.


    [Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor]

CORDELIA    O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work,
    To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
    And every measure fail me.

KENT    To be acknowledged, madam, is o'erpaid.
    All my reports go with the modest truth;
    Nor more nor clipp'd, but so.

CORDELIA    Be better suited:
    These weeds are memories of those worser hours:
    I prithee, put them off.

KENT    Pardon me, dear madam;
    Yet to be known shortens my made intent:
    My boon I make it, that you know me not
    Till time and I think meet.

CORDELIA    Then be't so, my good lord.

    [To the Doctor]

              How does the king?

Doctor    Madam, sleeps still.

CORDELIA    O you kind gods,
    Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
    The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up
    Of this child-changed father!

Doctor    So please your majesty
    That we may wake the king: he hath slept long.

CORDELIA    Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
    I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd?

Gentleman    Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep
    We put fresh garments on him.

Doctor    Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
    I doubt not of his temperance.

CORDELIA    Very well.

Doctor    Please you, draw near. Louder the music there!

CORDELIA    O my dear father! Restoration hang
    Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
    Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
    Have in thy reverence made!

KENT    Kind and dear princess!

CORDELIA    Had you not been their father, these white flakes
    Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face
    To be opposed against the warring winds?
    To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
    In the most terrible and nimble stroke
    Of quick, cross lightning? to watch--poor perdu!--
    With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog,
    Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
    Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,
    To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
    In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
    'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
    Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.

Doctor    Madam, do you; 'tis fittest.

CORDELIA    How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

KING LEAR    You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave:
    Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
    Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
    Do scald like moulten lead.

CORDELIA    Sir, do you know me?

KING LEAR    You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?

CORDELIA    Still, still, far wide!

Doctor    He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile.

KING LEAR    Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
    I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity,
    To see another thus. I know not what to say.
    I will not swear these are my hands: let's see;
    I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured
    Of my condition!

CORDELIA                      O, look upon me, sir,
    And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:
    No, sir, you must not kneel.

KING LEAR    Pray, do not mock me:
    I am a very foolish fond old man,
    Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
    And, to deal plainly,
    I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
    Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
    Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant
    What place this is; and all the skill I have
    Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
    Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
    For, as I am a man, I think this lady
    To be my child Cordelia.

CORDELIA    And so I am, I am.

KING LEAR    Be your tears wet? yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not:
    If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
    I know you do not love me; for your sisters
    Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
    You have some cause, they have not.

CORDELIA    No cause, no cause.

KING LEAR    Am I in France?

KENT                      In your own kingdom, sir.

KING LEAR    Do not abuse me.

Doctor    Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,
    You see, is kill'd in him: and yet it is danger
    To make him even o'er the time he has lost.
    Desire him to go in; trouble him no more
    Till further settling.

CORDELIA    Will't please your highness walk?

KING LEAR    You must bear with me:
    Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.

    [Exeunt all but KENT and Gentleman]

Gentleman    Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?

KENT    Most certain, sir.

Gentleman    Who is conductor of his people?

KENT    As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.

Gentleman    They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl
    of Kent in Germany.

KENT    Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the
    powers of the kingdom approach apace.

Gentleman    The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you
    well, sir.

    [Exit]

KENT    My point and period will be throughly wrought,
    Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought.

    [Exit]




    KING LEAR


ACT V



SCENE I    The British camp, near Dover.


    [Enter, with drum and colours, EDMUND, REGAN,
    Gentlemen, and Soldiers.

EDMUND    Know of the duke if his last purpose hold,
    Or whether since he is advised by aught
    To change the course: he's full of alteration
    And self-reproving: bring his constant pleasure.

    [To a Gentleman, who goes out]

REGAN    Our sister's man is certainly miscarried.

EDMUND    'Tis to be doubted, madam.

REGAN    Now, sweet lord,
    You know the goodness I intend upon you:
    Tell me--but truly--but then speak the truth,
    Do you not love my sister?

EDMUND    In honour'd love.

REGAN    But have you never found my brother's way
    To the forfended place?

EDMUND    That thought abuses you.

REGAN    I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
    And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers.

EDMUND    No, by mine honour, madam.

REGAN    I never shall endure her: dear my lord,
    Be not familiar with her.

EDMUND    Fear me not:
    She and the duke her husband!

    [Enter, with drum and colours, ALBANY, GONERIL, and Soldiers]

GONERIL    [Aside]  I had rather lose the battle than that sister
    Should loosen him and me.

ALBANY    Our very loving sister, well be-met.
    Sir, this I hear; the king is come to his daughter,
    With others whom the rigor of our state
    Forced to cry out. Where I could not be honest,
    I never yet was valiant: for this business,
    It toucheth us, as France invades our land,
    Not bolds the king, with others, whom, I fear,
    Most just and heavy causes make oppose.

EDMUND    Sir, you speak nobly.

REGAN    Why is this reason'd?

GONERIL    Combine together 'gainst the enemy;
    For these domestic and particular broils
    Are not the question here.

ALBANY    Let's then determine
    With the ancient of war on our proceedings.

EDMUND    I shall attend you presently at your tent.

REGAN    Sister, you'll go with us?

GONERIL    No.

REGAN    'Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us.

GONERIL    [Aside]  O, ho, I know the riddle.--I will go.

    [As they are going out, enter EDGAR disguised]

EDGAR    If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor,
    Hear me one word.

ALBANY                      I'll overtake you. Speak.

    [Exeunt all but ALBANY and EDGAR]

EDGAR    Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
    If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
    For him that brought it: wretched though I seem,
    I can produce a champion that will prove
    What is avouched there. If you miscarry,
    Your business of the world hath so an end,
    And machination ceases. Fortune love you.

ALBANY    Stay till I have read the letter.

EDGAR    I was forbid it.
    When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,
    And I'll appear again.

ALBANY    Why, fare thee well: I will o'erlook thy paper.

    [Exit EDGAR]

    [Re-enter EDMUND]

EDMUND    The enemy's in view; draw up your powers.
    Here is the guess of their true strength and forces
    By diligent discovery; but your haste
    Is now urged on you.

ALBANY    We will greet the time.

    [Exit]

EDMUND    To both these sisters have I sworn my love;
    Each jealous of the other, as the stung
    Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?
    Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd,
    If both remain alive: to take the widow
    Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
    And hardly shall I carry out my side,
    Her husband being alive. Now then we'll use
    His countenance for the battle; which being done,
    Let her who would be rid of him devise
    His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
    Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,
    The battle done, and they within our power,
    Shall never see his pardon; for my state
    Stands on me to defend, not to debate.

    [Exit]




    KING LEAR


ACT V



SCENE II    A field between the two camps.


    [Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours,
    KING LEAR, CORDELIA, and Soldiers, over the stage;
    and exeunt]

    [Enter EDGAR and GLOUCESTER]

EDGAR    Here, father, take the shadow of this tree
    For your good host; pray that the right may thrive:
    If ever I return to you again,
    I'll bring you comfort.

GLOUCESTER    Grace go with you, sir!

    [Exit EDGAR]

    [Alarum and retreat within. Re-enter EDGAR]

EDGAR    Away, old man; give me thy hand; away!
    King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en:
    Give me thy hand; come on.

GLOUCESTER    No farther, sir; a man may rot even here.

EDGAR    What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure
    Their going hence, even as their coming hither;
    Ripeness is all: come on.

GLOUCESTER    And that's true too.

    [Exeunt]




    KING LEAR


ACT V



SCENE III    The British camp near Dover.


    [Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, EDMUND,
    KING LEAR and CORDELIA, prisoners; Captain,
    Soldiers, &c]

EDMUND    Some officers take them away: good guard,
    Until their greater pleasures first be known
    That are to censure them.

CORDELIA    We are not the first
    Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst.
    For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down;
    Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown.
    Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?

KING LEAR    No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:
    We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
    When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
    And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live,
    And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
    At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
    Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,
    Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;
    And take upon's the mystery of things,
    As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,
    In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
    That ebb and flow by the moon.

EDMUND    Take them away.

KING LEAR    Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
    The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee?
    He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven,
    And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes;
    The good-years shall devour them, flesh and fell,
    Ere they shall make us weep: we'll see 'em starve
    first. Come.

    [Exeunt KING LEAR and CORDELIA, guarded]

EDMUND    Come hither, captain; hark.
    Take thou this note;

    [Giving a paper]

        go follow them to prison:
    One step I have advanced thee; if thou dost
    As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
    To noble fortunes: know thou this, that men
    Are as the time is: to be tender-minded
    Does not become a sword: thy great employment
    Will not bear question; either say thou'lt do 't,
    Or thrive by other means.

Captain    I'll do 't, my lord.

EDMUND    About it; and write happy when thou hast done.
    Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it so
    As I have set it down.

Captain    I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats;
    If it be man's work, I'll do 't.

    [Exit]

    [Flourish. Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, another
    Captain, and Soldiers]

ALBANY    Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain,
    And fortune led you well: you have the captives
    That were the opposites of this day's strife:
    We do require them of you, so to use them
    As we shall find their merits and our safety
    May equally determine.

EDMUND    Sir, I thought it fit
    To send the old and miserable king
    To some retention and appointed guard;
    Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,
    To pluck the common bosom on his side,
    An turn our impress'd lances in our eyes
    Which do command them. With him I sent the queen;
    My reason all the same; and they are ready
    To-morrow, or at further space, to appear
    Where you shall hold your session. At this time
    We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;
    And the best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed
    By those that feel their sharpness:
    The question of Cordelia and her father
    Requires a fitter place.

ALBANY    Sir, by your patience,
    I hold you but a subject of this war,
    Not as a brother.

REGAN                      That's as we list to grace him.
    Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded,
    Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers;
    Bore the commission of my place and person;
    The which immediacy may well stand up,
    And call itself your brother.

GONERIL    Not so hot:
    In his own grace he doth exalt himself,
    More than in your addition.

REGAN    In my rights,
    By me invested, he compeers the best.

GONERIL    That were the most, if he should husband you.

REGAN    Jesters do oft prove prophets.

GONERIL    Holla, holla!
    That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint.

REGAN    Lady, I am not well; else I should answer
    From a full-flowing stomach. General,
    Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;
    Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine:
    Witness the world, that I create thee here
    My lord and master.

GONERIL    Mean you to enjoy him?

ALBANY    The let-alone lies not in your good will.

EDMUND    Nor in thine, lord.

ALBANY    Half-blooded fellow, yes.

REGAN    [To EDMUND]  Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.

ALBANY    Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee
    On capital treason; and, in thine attaint,
    This gilded serpent

    [Pointing to Goneril]

    For your claim, fair sister,
    I bar it in the interest of my wife:
    'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,
    And I, her husband, contradict your bans.
    If you will marry, make your loves to me,
    My lady is bespoke.

GONERIL    An interlude!

ALBANY    Thou art arm'd, Gloucester: let the trumpet sound:
    If none appear to prove upon thy head
    Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
    There is my pledge;

    [Throwing down a glove]

    I'll prove it on thy heart,
    Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
    Than I have here proclaim'd thee.

REGAN    Sick, O, sick!

GONERIL    [Aside]  If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine.

EDMUND    There's my exchange:

    [Throwing down a glove]

        what in the world he is
    That names me traitor, villain-like he lies:
    Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
    On him, on you, who not? I will maintain
    My truth and honour firmly.

ALBANY    A herald, ho!

EDMUND                      A herald, ho, a herald!

ALBANY    Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers,
    All levied in my name, have in my name
    Took their discharge.

REGAN    My sickness grows upon me.

ALBANY    She is not well; convey her to my tent.

    [Exit Regan, led]

    [Enter a Herald]

    Come hither, herald,--Let the trumpet sound,
    And read out this.

Captain    Sound, trumpet!

    [A trumpet sounds]

Herald    [Reads]  'If any man of quality or degree within
    the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund,
    supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold
    traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the
    trumpet: he is bold in his defence.'

EDMUND    Sound!

    [First trumpet]

Herald    Again!

    [Second trumpet]

Herald    Again!

    [Third trumpet]

    [Trumpet answers within]

    [Enter EDGAR, at the third sound, armed, with a
    trumpet before him]

ALBANY    Ask him his purposes, why he appears
    Upon this call o' the trumpet.

Herald    What are you?
    Your name, your quality? and why you answer
    This present summons?

EDGAR    Know, my name is lost;
    By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit:
    Yet am I noble as the adversary
    I come to cope.

ALBANY                      Which is that adversary?

EDGAR    What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester?

EDMUND    Himself: what say'st thou to him?

EDGAR    Draw thy sword,
    That, if my speech offend a noble heart,
    Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine.
    Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
    My oath, and my profession: I protest,
    Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
    Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune,
    Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor;
    False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
    Conspirant 'gainst this high-illustrious prince;
    And, from the extremest upward of thy head
    To the descent and dust below thy foot,
    A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou 'No,'
    This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
    To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
    Thou liest.

EDMUND    In wisdom I should ask thy name;
    But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
    And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes,
    What safe and nicely I might well delay
    By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn:
    Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;
    With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;
    Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise,
    This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
    Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak!

    [Alarums. They fight. EDMUND falls]

ALBANY    Save him, save him!

GONERIL    This is practise, Gloucester:
    By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
    An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd,
    But cozen'd and beguiled.

ALBANY    Shut your mouth, dame,
    Or with this paper shall I stop it: Hold, sir:
    Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil:
    No tearing, lady: I perceive you know it.

    [Gives the letter to EDMUND]

GONERIL    Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not thine:
    Who can arraign me for't.

ALBANY    Most monstrous! oh!
    Know'st thou this paper?

GONERIL    Ask me not what I know.

    [Exit]

ALBANY    Go after her: she's desperate; govern her.

EDMUND    What you have charged me with, that have I done;
    And more, much more; the time will bring it out:
    'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou
    That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble,
    I do forgive thee.

EDGAR                      Let's exchange charity.
    I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
    If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me.
    My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
    The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
    Make instruments to plague us:
    The dark and vicious place where thee he got
    Cost him his eyes.

EDMUND                      Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true;
    The wheel is come full circle: I am here.

ALBANY    Methought thy very gait did prophesy
    A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee:
    Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I
    Did hate thee or thy father!

EDGAR    Worthy prince, I know't.

ALBANY    Where have you hid yourself?
    How have you known the miseries of your father?

EDGAR    By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale;
    And when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!
    The bloody proclamation to escape,
    That follow'd me so near,--O, our lives' sweetness!
    That we the pain of death would hourly die
    Rather than die at once!--taught me to shift
    Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance
    That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit
    Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
    Their precious stones new lost: became his guide,
    Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from despair;
    Never,--O fault!--reveal'd myself unto him,
    Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd:
    Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
    I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
    Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw'd heart,
    Alack, too weak the conflict to support!
    'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
    Burst smilingly.

EDMUND    This speech of yours hath moved me,
    And shall perchance do good: but speak you on;
    You look as you had something more to say.

ALBANY    If there be more, more woeful, hold it in;
    For I am almost ready to dissolve,
    Hearing of this.

EDGAR                      This would have seem'd a period
    To such as love not sorrow; but another,
    To amplify too much, would make much more,
    And top extremity.
    Whilst I was big in clamour came there in a man,
    Who, having seen me in my worst estate,
    Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
    Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms
    He fastened on my neck, and bellow'd out
    As he'ld burst heaven; threw him on my father;
    Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him
    That ever ear received: which in recounting
    His grief grew puissant and the strings of life
    Began to crack: twice then the trumpets sounded,
    And there I left him tranced.

ALBANY    But who was this?

EDGAR    Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise
    Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service
    Improper for a slave.

    [Enter a Gentleman, with a bloody knife]

Gentleman    Help, help, O, help!

EDGAR    What kind of help?

ALBANY    Speak, man.

EDGAR    What means that bloody knife?

Gentleman    'Tis hot, it smokes;
    It came even from the heart of--O, she's dead!

ALBANY    Who dead? speak, man.

Gentleman    Your lady, sir, your lady: and her sister
    By her is poisoned; she hath confess'd it.

EDMUND    I was contracted to them both: all three
    Now marry in an instant.

EDGAR    Here comes Kent.

ALBANY    Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead:
    This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble,
    Touches us not with pity.

    [Exit Gentleman]

    [Enter KENT]

            O, is this he?
    The time will not allow the compliment
    Which very manners urges.

KENT    I am come
    To bid my king and master aye good night:
    Is he not here?

ALBANY                      Great thing of us forgot!
    Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's Cordelia?
    See'st thou this object, Kent?

    [The bodies of GONERIL and REGAN are brought in]

KENT    Alack, why thus?

EDMUND                      Yet Edmund was beloved:
    The one the other poison'd for my sake,
    And after slew herself.

ALBANY    Even so. Cover their faces.

EDMUND    I pant for life: some good I mean to do,
    Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send,
    Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ
    Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia:
    Nay, send in time.

ALBANY                      Run, run, O, run!

EDGAR    To who, my lord? Who hath the office? send
    Thy token of reprieve.

EDMUND    Well thought on: take my sword,
    Give it the captain.

ALBANY    Haste thee, for thy life.

    [Exit EDGAR]

EDMUND    He hath commission from thy wife and me
    To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
    To lay the blame upon her own despair,
    That she fordid herself.

ALBANY    The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.

    [EDMUND is borne off]

    [Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms;
    EDGAR, Captain, and others following]

KING LEAR    Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:
    Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so
    That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!
    I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
    She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;
    If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
    Why, then she lives.

KENT    Is this the promised end

EDGAR    Or image of that horror?

ALBANY    Fall, and cease!

KING LEAR    This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
    It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows
    That ever I have felt.

KENT    [Kneeling]  O my good master!

KING LEAR    Prithee, away.

EDGAR    'Tis noble Kent, your friend.

KING LEAR    A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
    I might have saved her; now she's gone for ever!
    Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha!
    What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft,
    Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
    I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee.

Captain    'Tis true, my lords, he did.

KING LEAR    Did I not, fellow?
    I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion
    I would have made them skip: I am old now,
    And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you?
    Mine eyes are not o' the best: I'll tell you straight.

KENT    If fortune brag of two she loved and hated,
    One of them we behold.

KING LEAR    This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?

KENT    The same,
    Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius?

KING LEAR    He's a good fellow, I can tell you that;
    He'll strike, and quickly too: he's dead and rotten.

KENT    No, my good lord; I am the very man,--

KING LEAR    I'll see that straight.

KENT    That, from your first of difference and decay,
    Have follow'd your sad steps.

KING LEAR    You are welcome hither.

KENT    Nor no man else: all's cheerless, dark, and deadly.
    Your eldest daughters have fordone them selves,
    And desperately are dead.

KING LEAR    Ay, so I think.

ALBANY    He knows not what he says: and vain it is
    That we present us to him.

EDGAR    Very bootless.

    [Enter a Captain]

Captain    Edmund is dead, my lord.

ALBANY    That's but a trifle here.
    You lords and noble friends, know our intent.
    What comfort to this great decay may come
    Shall be applied: for us we will resign,
    During the life of this old majesty,
    To him our absolute power:

    [To EDGAR and KENT]

             you, to your rights:
    With boot, and such addition as your honours
    Have more than merited. All friends shall taste
    The wages of their virtue, and all foes
    The cup of their deservings. O, see, see!

KING LEAR    And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!
    Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
    And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
    Never, never, never, never, never!
    Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.
    Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
    Look there, look there!

    [Dies]

EDGAR    He faints! My lord, my lord!

KENT    Break, heart; I prithee, break!

EDGAR    Look up, my lord.

KENT    Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him much
    That would upon the rack of this tough world
    Stretch him out longer.

EDGAR    He is gone, indeed.

KENT    The wonder is, he hath endured so long:
    He but usurp'd his life.

ALBANY    Bear them from hence. Our present business
    Is general woe.

    [To KENT and EDGAR]

    Friends of my soul, you twain
    Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain.

KENT    I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
    My master calls me, I must not say no.

ALBANY    The weight of this sad time we must obey;
    Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
    The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
    Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

    [Exeunt, with a dead march]




    MACBETH


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


DUNCAN    king of Scotland.


MALCOLM    |
    |  his sons.
DONALBAIN    |


MACBETH    |
    |  generals of the king's army.
BANQUO    |


MACDUFF    |
    |
LENNOX    |
    |
ROSS    |
    |  noblemen of Scotland.
MENTEITH    |
    |
ANGUS    |
    |
CAITHNESS    |


FLEANCE    son to Banquo.

SIWARD    Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces.

YOUNG SIWARD    his son.

SEYTON    an officer attending on Macbeth.

    Boy, son to Macduff. (Son:)

    An English Doctor. (Doctor:)

    A Scotch Doctor. (Doctor:)

    A Soldier.
    A Porter.

    An Old Man

LADY MACBETH:

LADY MACDUFF:

    Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth. (Gentlewoman:)

HECATE:

    Three Witches.
    (First Witch:)
    (Second Witch:)
    (Third Witch:)

    Apparitions.
    (First Apparition:)
    (Second Apparition:)
    (Third Apparition:)

    Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers,
    Attendants, and Messengers. (Lord:)
    (Sergeant:)
    (Servant:)
    (First Murderer:)
    (Second Murderer:)
    (Third Murderer:)
    (Messenger:)

SCENE    Scotland: England.




    MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE I    A desert place.


    [Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches]

First Witch    When shall we three meet again
    In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Second Witch    When the hurlyburly's done,
    When the battle's lost and won.

Third Witch    That will be ere the set of sun.

First Witch    Where the place?

Second Witch                      Upon the heath.

Third Witch    There to meet with Macbeth.

First Witch    I come, Graymalkin!

Second Witch    Paddock calls.

Third Witch    Anon.

ALL    Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
    Hover through the fog and filthy air.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE II    A camp near Forres.


    [Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN,
    LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant]

DUNCAN    What bloody man is that? He can report,
    As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
    The newest state.

MALCOLM                      This is the sergeant
    Who like a good and hardy soldier fought
    'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend!
    Say to the king the knowledge of the broil
    As thou didst leave it.

Sergeant    Doubtful it stood;
    As two spent swimmers, that do cling together
    And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald--
    Worthy to be a rebel, for to that
    The multiplying villanies of nature
    Do swarm upon him--from the western isles
    Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;
    And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,
    Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak:
    For brave Macbeth--well he deserves that name--
    Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
    Which smoked with bloody execution,
    Like valour's minion carved out his passage
    Till he faced the slave;
    Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
    Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
    And fix'd his head upon our battlements.

DUNCAN    O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman!

Sergeant    As whence the sun 'gins his reflection
    Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break,
    So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come
    Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark:
    No sooner justice had with valour arm'd
    Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels,
    But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage,
    With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men
    Began a fresh assault.

DUNCAN    Dismay'd not this
    Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo?

Sergeant    Yes;
    As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.
    If I say sooth, I must report they were
    As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they
    Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe:
    Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
    Or memorise another Golgotha,
    I cannot tell.
    But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.

DUNCAN    So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;
    They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons.

    [Exit Sergeant, attended]

    Who comes here?

    [Enter ROSS]

MALCOLM                      The worthy thane of Ross.

LENNOX    What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look
    That seems to speak things strange.

ROSS    God save the king!

DUNCAN    Whence camest thou, worthy thane?

ROSS    From Fife, great king;
    Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky
    And fan our people cold. Norway himself,
    With terrible numbers,
    Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
    The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;
    Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,
    Confronted him with self-comparisons,
    Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm.
    Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,
    The victory fell on us.

DUNCAN    Great happiness!

ROSS    That now
    Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition:
    Nor would we deign him burial of his men
    Till he disbursed at Saint Colme's inch
    Ten thousand dollars to our general use.

DUNCAN    No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
    Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death,
    And with his former title greet Macbeth.

ROSS    I'll see it done.

DUNCAN    What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE III    A heath near Forres.


    [Thunder. Enter the three Witches]

First Witch    Where hast thou been, sister?

Second Witch    Killing swine.

Third Witch    Sister, where thou?

First Witch    A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
    And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:--
    'Give me,' quoth I:
    'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.
    Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
    But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
    And, like a rat without a tail,
    I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.

Second Witch    I'll give thee a wind.

First Witch    Thou'rt kind.

Third Witch    And I another.

First Witch    I myself have all the other,
    And the very ports they blow,
    All the quarters that they know
    I' the shipman's card.
    I will drain him dry as hay:
    Sleep shall neither night nor day
    Hang upon his pent-house lid;
    He shall live a man forbid:
    Weary se'nnights nine times nine
    Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
    Though his bark cannot be lost,
    Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
    Look what I have.

Second Witch    Show me, show me.

First Witch    Here I have a pilot's thumb,
    Wreck'd as homeward he did come.

    [Drum within]

Third Witch    A drum, a drum!
    Macbeth doth come.

ALL    The weird sisters, hand in hand,
    Posters of the sea and land,
    Thus do go about, about:
    Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
    And thrice again, to make up nine.
    Peace! the charm's wound up.

    [Enter MACBETH and BANQUO]

MACBETH    So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

BANQUO    How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these
    So wither'd and so wild in their attire,
    That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
    And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught
    That man may question? You seem to understand me,
    By each at once her chappy finger laying
    Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
    And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
    That you are so.

MACBETH                      Speak, if you can: what are you?

First Witch    All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!

Second Witch    All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!

Third Witch    All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!

BANQUO    Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear
    Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth,
    Are ye fantastical, or that indeed
    Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner
    You greet with present grace and great prediction
    Of noble having and of royal hope,
    That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not.
    If you can look into the seeds of time,
    And say which grain will grow and which will not,
    Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
    Your favours nor your hate.

First Witch    Hail!

Second Witch    Hail!

Third Witch    Hail!

First Witch    Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.

Second Witch    Not so happy, yet much happier.

Third Witch    Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none:
    So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!

First Witch    Banquo and Macbeth, all hail!

MACBETH    Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
    By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis;
    But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
    A prosperous gentleman; and to be king
    Stands not within the prospect of belief,
    No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence
    You owe this strange intelligence? or why
    Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
    With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.

    [Witches vanish]

BANQUO    The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
    And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?

MACBETH    Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted
    As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!

BANQUO    Were such things here as we do speak about?
    Or have we eaten on the insane root
    That takes the reason prisoner?

MACBETH    Your children shall be kings.

BANQUO    You shall be king.

MACBETH    And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?

BANQUO    To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here?

    [Enter ROSS and ANGUS]

ROSS    The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
    The news of thy success; and when he reads
    Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
    His wonders and his praises do contend
    Which should be thine or his: silenced with that,
    In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day,
    He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
    Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
    Strange images of death. As thick as hail
    Came post with post; and every one did bear
    Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
    And pour'd them down before him.

ANGUS    We are sent
    To give thee from our royal master thanks;
    Only to herald thee into his sight,
    Not pay thee.

ROSS    And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
    He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:
    In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!
    For it is thine.

BANQUO                      What, can the devil speak true?

MACBETH    The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
    In borrow'd robes?

ANGUS                      Who was the thane lives yet;
    But under heavy judgment bears that life
    Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined
    With those of Norway, or did line the rebel
    With hidden help and vantage, or that with both
    He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;
    But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,
    Have overthrown him.

MACBETH    [Aside]  Glamis, and thane of Cawdor!
    The greatest is behind.

    [To ROSS and ANGUS]

          Thanks for your pains.

    [To BANQUO]

    Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
    When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me
    Promised no less to them?

BANQUO    That trusted home
    Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
    Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange:
    And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
    The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
    Win us with honest trifles, to betray's
    In deepest consequence.
    Cousins, a word, I pray you.

MACBETH    [Aside]    Two truths are told,
    As happy prologues to the swelling act
    Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen.

    [Aside]  This supernatural soliciting
    Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill,
    Why hath it given me earnest of success,
    Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
    If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
    Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
    And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
    Against the use of nature? Present fears
    Are less than horrible imaginings:
    My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
    Shakes so my single state of man that function
    Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is
    But what is not.

BANQUO                      Look, how our partner's rapt.

MACBETH    [Aside]  If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
    Without my stir.

BANQUO                      New horrors come upon him,
    Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould
    But with the aid of use.

MACBETH    [Aside]                Come what come may,
    Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

BANQUO    Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.

MACBETH    Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought
    With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
    Are register'd where every day I turn
    The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king.
    Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time,
    The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
    Our free hearts each to other.

BANQUO    Very gladly.

MACBETH    Till then, enough. Come, friends.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE IV    Forres. The palace.


    [Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX,
    and Attendants]

DUNCAN    Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
    Those in commission yet return'd?

MALCOLM    My liege,
    They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
    With one that saw him die: who did report
    That very frankly he confess'd his treasons,
    Implored your highness' pardon and set forth
    A deep repentance: nothing in his life
    Became him like the leaving it; he died
    As one that had been studied in his death
    To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
    As 'twere a careless trifle.

DUNCAN    There's no art
    To find the mind's construction in the face:
    He was a gentleman on whom I built
    An absolute trust.

    [Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS, and ANGUS]

    O worthiest cousin!
    The sin of my ingratitude even now
    Was heavy on me: thou art so far before
    That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
    To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved,
    That the proportion both of thanks and payment
    Might have been mine! only I have left to say,
    More is thy due than more than all can pay.

MACBETH    The service and the loyalty I owe,
    In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
    Is to receive our duties; and our duties
    Are to your throne and state children and servants,
    Which do but what they should, by doing every thing
    Safe toward your love and honour.

DUNCAN    Welcome hither:
    I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
    To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,
    That hast no less deserved, nor must be known
    No less to have done so, let me enfold thee
    And hold thee to my heart.

BANQUO    There if I grow,
    The harvest is your own.

DUNCAN    My plenteous joys,
    Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
    In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
    And you whose places are the nearest, know
    We will establish our estate upon
    Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter
    The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must
    Not unaccompanied invest him only,
    But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
    On all deservers. From hence to Inverness,
    And bind us further to you.

MACBETH    The rest is labour, which is not used for you:
    I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful
    The hearing of my wife with your approach;
    So humbly take my leave.

DUNCAN    My worthy Cawdor!

MACBETH    [Aside]  The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step
    On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap,
    For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires;
    Let not light see my black and deep desires:
    The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,
    Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.

    [Exit]

DUNCAN    True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant,
    And in his commendations I am fed;
    It is a banquet to me. Let's after him,
    Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome:
    It is a peerless kinsman.

    [Flourish. Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE V    Inverness. Macbeth's castle.


    [Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter]

LADY MACBETH    'They met me in the day of success: and I have
    learned by the perfectest report, they have more in
    them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire
    to question them further, they made themselves air,
    into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in
    the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who
    all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,
    before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred
    me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that
    shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver
    thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou
    mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being
    ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it
    to thy heart, and farewell.'
    Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
    What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;
    It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
    To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;
    Art not without ambition, but without
    The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly,
    That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
    And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis,
    That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it;
    And that which rather thou dost fear to do
    Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither,
    That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;
    And chastise with the valour of my tongue
    All that impedes thee from the golden round,
    Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem
    To have thee crown'd withal.

    [Enter a Messenger]

               What is your tidings?

Messenger    The king comes here to-night.

LADY MACBETH    Thou'rt mad to say it:
    Is not thy master with him? who, were't so,
    Would have inform'd for preparation.

Messenger    So please you, it is true: our thane is coming:
    One of my fellows had the speed of him,
    Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
    Than would make up his message.

LADY MACBETH    Give him tending;
    He brings great news.

    [Exit Messenger]

        The raven himself is hoarse
    That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
    Under my battlements. Come, you spirits
    That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
    And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
    Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood;
    Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
    That no compunctious visitings of nature
    Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
    The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,
    And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
    Wherever in your sightless substances
    You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,
    And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
    That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
    Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
    To cry 'Hold, hold!'

    [Enter MACBETH]

        Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!
    Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!
    Thy letters have transported me beyond
    This ignorant present, and I feel now
    The future in the instant.

MACBETH    My dearest love,
    Duncan comes here to-night.

LADY MACBETH    And when goes hence?

MACBETH    To-morrow, as he purposes.

LADY MACBETH    O, never
    Shall sun that morrow see!
    Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
    May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
    Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
    Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
    But be the serpent under't. He that's coming
    Must be provided for: and you shall put
    This night's great business into my dispatch;
    Which shall to all our nights and days to come
    Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

MACBETH    We will speak further.

LADY MACBETH    Only look up clear;
    To alter favour ever is to fear:
    Leave all the rest to me.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE VI    Before Macbeth's castle.


    [Hautboys and torches. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM,
    DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENNOX, MACDUFF, ROSS, ANGUS,
    and Attendants]

DUNCAN    This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
    Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
    Unto our gentle senses.

BANQUO    This guest of summer,
    The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
    By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath
    Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
    Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
    Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
    Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
    The air is delicate.

    [Enter LADY MACBETH]

DUNCAN    See, see, our honour'd hostess!
    The love that follows us sometime is our trouble,
    Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you
    How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains,
    And thank us for your trouble.

LADY MACBETH    All our service
    In every point twice done and then done double
    Were poor and single business to contend
    Against those honours deep and broad wherewith
    Your majesty loads our house: for those of old,
    And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
    We rest your hermits.

DUNCAN    Where's the thane of Cawdor?
    We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose
    To be his purveyor: but he rides well;
    And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him
    To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess,
    We are your guest to-night.

LADY MACBETH    Your servants ever
    Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt,
    To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,
    Still to return your own.

DUNCAN    Give me your hand;
    Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,
    And shall continue our graces towards him.
    By your leave, hostess.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT I



SCENE VII    Macbeth's castle.


    [Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers
    Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the
    stage. Then enter MACBETH]

MACBETH    If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well
    It were done quickly: if the assassination
    Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
    With his surcease success; that but this blow
    Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
    But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
    We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases
    We still have judgment here; that we but teach
    Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
    To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
    Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
    To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
    First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
    Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
    Who should against his murderer shut the door,
    Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
    Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
    So clear in his great office, that his virtues
    Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
    The deep damnation of his taking-off;
    And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
    Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
    Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
    Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
    That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
    To prick the sides of my intent, but only
    Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself
    And falls on the other.

    [Enter LADY MACBETH]

          How now! what news?

LADY MACBETH    He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?

MACBETH    Hath he ask'd for me?

LADY MACBETH    Know you not he has?

MACBETH    We will proceed no further in this business:
    He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought
    Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
    Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
    Not cast aside so soon.

LADY MACBETH    Was the hope drunk
    Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since?
    And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
    At what it did so freely? From this time
    Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
    To be the same in thine own act and valour
    As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that
    Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
    And live a coward in thine own esteem,
    Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,'
    Like the poor cat i' the adage?

MACBETH    Prithee, peace:
    I dare do all that may become a man;
    Who dares do more is none.
LADY MACBETH    What beast was't, then,
    That made you break this enterprise to me?
    When you durst do it, then you were a man;
    And, to be more than what you were, you would
    Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place
    Did then adhere, and yet you would make both:
    They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
    Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
    How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:
    I would, while it was smiling in my face,
    Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
    And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you
    Have done to this.

MACBETH                      If we should fail?

LADY MACBETH    We fail!
    But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
    And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep--
    Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
    Soundly invite him--his two chamberlains
    Will I with wine and wassail so convince
    That memory, the warder of the brain,
    Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
    A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep
    Their drenched natures lie as in a death,
    What cannot you and I perform upon
    The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
    His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt
    Of our great quell?

MACBETH    Bring forth men-children only;
    For thy undaunted mettle should compose
    Nothing but males. Will it not be received,
    When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
    Of his own chamber and used their very daggers,
    That they have done't?

LADY MACBETH    Who dares receive it other,
    As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
    Upon his death?

MACBETH                      I am settled, and bend up
    Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
    Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
    False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT II



SCENE I    Court of Macbeth's castle.


    [Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE bearing a torch before him]

BANQUO    How goes the night, boy?

FLEANCE    The moon is down; I have not heard the clock.

BANQUO    And she goes down at twelve.

FLEANCE    I take't, 'tis later, sir.

BANQUO    Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;
    Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.
    A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
    And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers,
    Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature
    Gives way to in repose!

    [Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torch]

          Give me my sword.
    Who's there?

MACBETH    A friend.

BANQUO    What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed:
    He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
    Sent forth great largess to your offices.
    This diamond he greets your wife withal,
    By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up
    In measureless content.

MACBETH    Being unprepared,
    Our will became the servant to defect;
    Which else should free have wrought.

BANQUO    All's well.
    I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters:
    To you they have show'd some truth.

MACBETH    I think not of them:
    Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
    We would spend it in some words upon that business,
    If you would grant the time.

BANQUO    At your kind'st leisure.

MACBETH    If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis,
    It shall make honour for you.

BANQUO    So I lose none
    In seeking to augment it, but still keep
    My bosom franchised and allegiance clear,
    I shall be counsell'd.

MACBETH    Good repose the while!

BANQUO    Thanks, sir: the like to you!

    [Exeunt BANQUO and FLEANCE]

MACBETH    Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
    She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed.

    [Exit Servant]

    Is this a dagger which I see before me,
    The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
    I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
    Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
    To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
    A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
    Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
    I see thee yet, in form as palpable
    As this which now I draw.
    Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
    And such an instrument I was to use.
    Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
    Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
    And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
    Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
    It is the bloody business which informs
    Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld
    Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
    The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
    Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
    Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
    Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
    With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
    Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
    Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
    Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
    And take the present horror from the time,
    Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:
    Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

    [A bell rings]

    I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
    Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
    That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

    [Exit]




    MACBETH


ACT II



SCENE II    The same.


    [Enter LADY MACBETH]

LADY MACBETH    That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold;
    What hath quench'd them hath given me fire.
    Hark! Peace!
    It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,
    Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it:
    The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms
    Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd
    their possets,
    That death and nature do contend about them,
    Whether they live or die.

MACBETH    [Within]  Who's there? what, ho!

LADY MACBETH    Alack, I am afraid they have awaked,
    And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed
    Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready;
    He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled
    My father as he slept, I had done't.

    [Enter MACBETH]

                          My husband!

MACBETH    I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?

LADY MACBETH    I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
    Did not you speak?

MACBETH                      When?

LADY MACBETH    Now.

MACBETH    As I descended?

LADY MACBETH    Ay.

MACBETH    Hark!
    Who lies i' the second chamber?

LADY MACBETH    Donalbain.

MACBETH    This is a sorry sight.

    [Looking on his hands]

LADY MACBETH    A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

MACBETH    There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried
    'Murder!'
    That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them:
    But they did say their prayers, and address'd them
    Again to sleep.

LADY MACBETH                      There are two lodged together.

MACBETH    One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen' the other;
    As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.
    Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen,'
    When they did say 'God bless us!'

LADY MACBETH    Consider it not so deeply.

MACBETH    But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?
    I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen'
    Stuck in my throat.

LADY MACBETH    These deeds must not be thought
    After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

MACBETH    Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!
    Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep,
    Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
    The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
    Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
    Chief nourisher in life's feast,--

LADY MACBETH    What do you mean?

MACBETH    Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house:
    'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
    Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.'

LADY MACBETH    Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane,
    You do unbend your noble strength, to think
    So brainsickly of things. Go get some water,
    And wash this filthy witness from your hand.
    Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
    They must lie there: go carry them; and smear
    The sleepy grooms with blood.

MACBETH    I'll go no more:
    I am afraid to think what I have done;
    Look on't again I dare not.

LADY MACBETH    Infirm of purpose!
    Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead
    Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood
    That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
    I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal;
    For it must seem their guilt.

    [Exit. Knocking within]

MACBETH    Whence is that knocking?
    How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
    What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes.
    Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
    Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
    The multitudinous seas in incarnadine,
    Making the green one red.

    [Re-enter LADY MACBETH]

LADY MACBETH    My hands are of your colour; but I shame
    To wear a heart so white.

    [Knocking within]

            I hear a knocking
    At the south entry: retire we to our chamber;
    A little water clears us of this deed:
    How easy is it, then! Your constancy
    Hath left you unattended.

    [Knocking within]

           Hark! more knocking.
    Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us,
    And show us to be watchers. Be not lost
    So poorly in your thoughts.

MACBETH    To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself.

    [Knocking within]

    Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst!

    [Exeunt]



    MACBETH


ACT II



SCENE III    The same.


    [Knocking within. Enter a Porter]

Porter    Here's a knocking indeed! If a
    man were porter of hell-gate, he should have
    old turning the key.

    [Knocking within]
        Knock,
    knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of
    Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that hanged
    himself on the expectation of plenty: come in
    time; have napkins enow about you; here
    you'll sweat for't.

    [Knocking within]
    Knock,
    knock! Who's there, in the other devil's
    name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could
    swear in both the scales against either scale;
    who committed treason enough for God's sake,
    yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come
    in, equivocator.

    [Knocking within]
    Knock,
    knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an
    English tailor come hither, for stealing out of
    a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may
    roast your goose.

    [Knocking within]
    Knock,
    knock; never at quiet! What are you? But
    this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter
    it no further: I had thought to have let in
    some of all professions that go the primrose
    way to the everlasting bonfire.

    [Knocking within]

    Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter.

    [Opens the gate]

    [Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX]

MACDUFF    Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
    That you do lie so late?

Porter    'Faith sir, we were carousing till the
    second cock: and drink, sir, is a great
    provoker of three things.

MACDUFF    What three things does drink especially provoke?

Porter    Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and
    urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes;
    it provokes the desire, but it takes
    away the performance: therefore, much drink
    may be said to be an equivocator with lechery:
    it makes him, and it mars him; it sets
    him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him,
    and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and
    not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him
    in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.

MACDUFF    I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.

Porter    That it did, sir, i' the very throat on
    me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I
    think, being too strong for him, though he took
    up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast
    him.

MACDUFF    Is thy master stirring?

    [Enter MACBETH]

    Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes.

LENNOX    Good morrow, noble sir.

MACBETH    Good morrow, both.

MACDUFF    Is the king stirring, worthy thane?

MACBETH    Not yet.

MACDUFF    He did command me to call timely on him:
    I have almost slipp'd the hour.

MACBETH    I'll bring you to him.

MACDUFF    I know this is a joyful trouble to you;
    But yet 'tis one.

MACBETH    The labour we delight in physics pain.
    This is the door.

MACDUFF                      I'll make so bold to call,
    For 'tis my limited service.

    [Exit]

LENNOX    Goes the king hence to-day?

MACBETH    He does: he did appoint so.

LENNOX    The night has been unruly: where we lay,
    Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,
    Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death,
    And prophesying with accents terrible
    Of dire combustion and confused events
    New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird
    Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth
    Was feverous and did shake.

MACBETH    'Twas a rough night.

LENNOX    My young remembrance cannot parallel
    A fellow to it.

    [Re-enter MACDUFF]

MACDUFF    O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart
    Cannot conceive nor name thee!


MACBETH    |
    |    What's the matter.
LENNOX    |


MACDUFF    Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
    Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
    The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
    The life o' the building!

MACBETH    What is 't you say? the life?

LENNOX    Mean you his majesty?

MACDUFF    Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
    With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak;
    See, and then speak yourselves.

    [Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX]

                  Awake, awake!
    Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason!
    Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake!
    Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
    And look on death itself! up, up, and see
    The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo!
    As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites,
    To countenance this horror! Ring the bell.

    [Bell rings]

    [Enter LADY MACBETH]

LADY MACBETH    What's the business,
    That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
    The sleepers of the house? speak, speak!

MACDUFF    O gentle lady,
    'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak:
    The repetition, in a woman's ear,
    Would murder as it fell.

    [Enter BANQUO]

           O Banquo, Banquo,
    Our royal master 's murder'd!

LADY MACBETH    Woe, alas!
    What, in our house?

BANQUO    Too cruel any where.
    Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself,
    And say it is not so.

    [Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with ROSS]

MACBETH    Had I but died an hour before this chance,
    I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant,
    There 's nothing serious in mortality:
    All is but toys: renown and grace is dead;
    The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
    Is left this vault to brag of.

    [Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN]

DONALBAIN    What is amiss?

MACBETH                      You are, and do not know't:
    The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
    Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd.

MACDUFF    Your royal father 's murder'd.

MALCOLM    O, by whom?

LENNOX    Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't:
    Their hands and faces were an badged with blood;
    So were their daggers, which unwiped we found
    Upon their pillows:
    They stared, and were distracted; no man's life
    Was to be trusted with them.

MACBETH    O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
    That I did kill them.

MACDUFF    Wherefore did you so?

MACBETH    Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
    Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man:
    The expedition my violent love
    Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan,
    His silver skin laced with his golden blood;
    And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature
    For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers,
    Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
    Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain,
    That had a heart to love, and in that heart
    Courage to make 's love known?

LADY MACBETH    Help me hence, ho!

MACDUFF    Look to the lady.

MALCOLM    [Aside to DONALBAIN]  Why do we hold our tongues,
    That most may claim this argument for ours?

DONALBAIN    [Aside to MALCOLM]  What should be spoken here,
    where our fate,
    Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us?
    Let 's away;
    Our tears are not yet brew'd.

MALCOLM    [Aside to DONALBAIN]        Nor our strong sorrow
    Upon the foot of motion.

BANQUO    Look to the lady:

    [LADY MACBETH is carried out]

    And when we have our naked frailties hid,
    That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
    And question this most bloody piece of work,
    To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us:
    In the great hand of God I stand; and thence
    Against the undivulged pretence I fight
    Of treasonous malice.

MACDUFF    And so do I.

ALL    So all.

MACBETH    Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
    And meet i' the hall together.

ALL    Well contented.

    [Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.

MALCOLM    What will you do? Let's not consort with them:
    To show an unfelt sorrow is an office
    Which the false man does easy. I'll to England.

DONALBAIN    To Ireland, I; our separated fortune
    Shall keep us both the safer: where we are,
    There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
    The nearer bloody.

MALCOLM                      This murderous shaft that's shot
    Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way
    Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse;
    And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
    But shift away: there's warrant in that theft
    Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT II



SCENE IV    Outside Macbeth's castle.


    [Enter ROSS and an old Man]

Old Man    Threescore and ten I can remember well:
    Within the volume of which time I have seen
    Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night
    Hath trifled former knowings.

ROSS    Ah, good father,
    Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
    Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
    And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
    Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame,
    That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
    When living light should kiss it?

Old Man    'Tis unnatural,
    Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
    A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
    Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.

ROSS    And Duncan's horses--a thing most strange and certain--
    Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
    Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
    Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
    War with mankind.

Old Man    'Tis said they eat each other.

ROSS    They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes
    That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff.

    [Enter MACDUFF]

    How goes the world, sir, now?

MACDUFF    Why, see you not?

ROSS    Is't known who did this more than bloody deed?

MACDUFF    Those that Macbeth hath slain.

ROSS    Alas, the day!
    What good could they pretend?

MACDUFF    They were suborn'd:
    Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons,
    Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them
    Suspicion of the deed.

ROSS    'Gainst nature still!
    Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
    Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like
    The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.

MACDUFF    He is already named, and gone to Scone
    To be invested.

ROSS                      Where is Duncan's body?

MACDUFF    Carried to Colmekill,
    The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
    And guardian of their bones.

ROSS    Will you to Scone?

MACDUFF    No, cousin, I'll to Fife.

ROSS    Well, I will thither.

MACDUFF    Well, may you see things well done there: adieu!
    Lest our old robes sit easier than our new!

ROSS    Farewell, father.

Old Man    God's benison go with you; and with those
    That would make good of bad, and friends of foes!

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE I    Forres. The palace.


    [Enter BANQUO]

BANQUO    Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
    As the weird women promised, and, I fear,
    Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said
    It should not stand in thy posterity,
    But that myself should be the root and father
    Of many kings. If there come truth from them--
    As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine--
    Why, by the verities on thee made good,
    May they not be my oracles as well,
    And set me up in hope? But hush! no more.

    [Sennet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as king, LADY
    MACBETH, as queen, LENNOX, ROSS, Lords, Ladies, and
    Attendants]

MACBETH    Here's our chief guest.

LADY MACBETH    If he had been forgotten,
    It had been as a gap in our great feast,
    And all-thing unbecoming.

MACBETH    To-night we hold a solemn supper sir,
    And I'll request your presence.

BANQUO    Let your highness
    Command upon me; to the which my duties
    Are with a most indissoluble tie
    For ever knit.

MACBETH                      Ride you this afternoon?

BANQUO    Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH    We should have else desired your good advice,
    Which still hath been both grave and prosperous,
    In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow.
    Is't far you ride?

BANQUO    As far, my lord, as will fill up the time
    'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better,
    I must become a borrower of the night
    For a dark hour or twain.

MACBETH    Fail not our feast.

BANQUO    My lord, I will not.

MACBETH    We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd
    In England and in Ireland, not confessing
    Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
    With strange invention: but of that to-morrow,
    When therewithal we shall have cause of state
    Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu,
    Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you?

BANQUO    Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 's.

MACBETH    I wish your horses swift and sure of foot;
    And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell.

    [Exit BANQUO]

    Let every man be master of his time
    Till seven at night: to make society
    The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself
    Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you!

    [Exeunt all but MACBETH, and an attendant]

    Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men
    Our pleasure?

ATTENDANT    They are, my lord, without the palace gate.

MACBETH    Bring them before us.

    [Exit Attendant]

        To be thus is nothing;
    But to be safely thus.--Our fears in Banquo
    Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature
    Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares;
    And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
    He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
    To act in safety. There is none but he
    Whose being I do fear: and, under him,
    My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said,
    Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters
    When first they put the name of king upon me,
    And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like
    They hail'd him father to a line of kings:
    Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
    And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
    Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,
    No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so,
    For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind;
    For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd;
    Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
    Only for them; and mine eternal jewel
    Given to the common enemy of man,
    To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings!
    Rather than so, come fate into the list.
    And champion me to the utterance! Who's there!

    [Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers]

    Now go to the door, and stay there till we call.

    [Exit Attendant]

    Was it not yesterday we spoke together?

First Murderer    It was, so please your highness.

MACBETH    Well then, now
    Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know
    That it was he in the times past which held you
    So under fortune, which you thought had been
    Our innocent self: this I made good to you
    In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you,
    How you were borne in hand, how cross'd,
    the instruments,
    Who wrought with them, and all things else that might
    To half a soul and to a notion crazed
    Say 'Thus did Banquo.'

First Murderer    You made it known to us.

MACBETH    I did so, and went further, which is now
    Our point of second meeting. Do you find
    Your patience so predominant in your nature
    That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd
    To pray for this good man and for his issue,
    Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave
    And beggar'd yours for ever?

First Murderer    We are men, my liege.

MACBETH    Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men;
    As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,
    Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept
    All by the name of dogs: the valued file
    Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
    The housekeeper, the hunter, every one
    According to the gift which bounteous nature
    Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive
    Particular addition. from the bill
    That writes them all alike: and so of men.
    Now, if you have a station in the file,
    Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't;
    And I will put that business in your bosoms,
    Whose execution takes your enemy off,
    Grapples you to the heart and love of us,
    Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
    Which in his death were perfect.

Second Murderer    I am one, my liege,
    Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
    Have so incensed that I am reckless what
    I do to spite the world.

First Murderer    And I another
    So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
    That I would set my lie on any chance,
    To mend it, or be rid on't.

MACBETH    Both of you
    Know Banquo was your enemy.

Both Murderers    True, my lord.

MACBETH    So is he mine; and in such bloody distance,
    That every minute of his being thrusts
    Against my near'st of life: and though I could
    With barefaced power sweep him from my sight
    And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not,
    For certain friends that are both his and mine,
    Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall
    Who I myself struck down; and thence it is,
    That I to your assistance do make love,
    Masking the business from the common eye
    For sundry weighty reasons.

Second Murderer    We shall, my lord,
    Perform what you command us.

First Murderer    Though our lives--

MACBETH    Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most
    I will advise you where to plant yourselves;
    Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,
    The moment on't; for't must be done to-night,
    And something from the palace; always thought
    That I require a clearness: and with him--
    To leave no rubs nor botches in the work--
    Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
    Whose absence is no less material to me
    Than is his father's, must embrace the fate
    Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart:
    I'll come to you anon.

Both Murderers    We are resolved, my lord.

MACBETH    I'll call upon you straight: abide within.

    [Exeunt Murderers]

    It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight,
    If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.

    [Exit]




    MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE II    The palace.


    [Enter LADY MACBETH and a Servant]

LADY MACBETH    Is Banquo gone from court?

Servant    Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.

LADY MACBETH    Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
    For a few words.

Servant                      Madam, I will.

    [Exit]

LADY MACBETH    Nought's had, all's spent,
    Where our desire is got without content:
    'Tis safer to be that which we destroy
    Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

    [Enter MACBETH]

    How now, my lord! why do you keep alone,
    Of sorriest fancies your companions making,
    Using those thoughts which should indeed have died
    With them they think on? Things without all remedy
    Should be without regard: what's done is done.

MACBETH    We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it:
    She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice
    Remains in danger of her former tooth.
    But let the frame of things disjoint, both the
    worlds suffer,
    Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep
    In the affliction of these terrible dreams
    That shake us nightly: better be with the dead,
    Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
    Than on the torture of the mind to lie
    In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave;
    After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;
    Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison,
    Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
    Can touch him further.

LADY MACBETH    Come on;
    Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks;
    Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night.

MACBETH    So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you:
    Let your remembrance apply to Banquo;
    Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue:
    Unsafe the while, that we
    Must lave our honours in these flattering streams,
    And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
    Disguising what they are.

LADY MACBETH    You must leave this.

MACBETH    O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
    Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.

LADY MACBETH    But in them nature's copy's not eterne.

MACBETH    There's comfort yet; they are assailable;
    Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown
    His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons
    The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
    Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
    A deed of dreadful note.

LADY MACBETH    What's to be done?

MACBETH    Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
    Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night,
    Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
    And with thy bloody and invisible hand
    Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
    Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow
    Makes wing to the rooky wood:
    Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;
    While night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
    Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still;
    Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
    So, prithee, go with me.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE III    A park near the palace.


    [Enter three Murderers]

First Murderer    But who did bid thee join with us?

Third Murderer    Macbeth.

Second Murderer    He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers
    Our offices and what we have to do
    To the direction just.

First Murderer    Then stand with us.
    The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
    Now spurs the lated traveller apace
    To gain the timely inn; and near approaches
    The subject of our watch.

Third Murderer    Hark! I hear horses.

BANQUO    [Within]  Give us a light there, ho!

Second Murderer    Then 'tis he: the rest
    That are within the note of expectation
    Already are i' the court.

First Murderer    His horses go about.

Third Murderer    Almost a mile: but he does usually,
    So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
    Make it their walk.

Second Murderer    A light, a light!

    [Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch]

Third Murderer    'Tis he.

First Murderer    Stand to't.

BANQUO    It will be rain to-night.

First Murderer    Let it come down.

    [They set upon BANQUO]

BANQUO    O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
    Thou mayst revenge. O slave!

    [Dies. FLEANCE escapes]

Third Murderer    Who did strike out the light?

First Murderer    Wast not the way?

Third Murderer    There's but one down; the son is fled.

Second Murderer    We have lost
    Best half of our affair.

First Murderer    Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE IV    The same. Hall in the palace.


    [A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH,
    ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants]

MACBETH    You know your own degrees; sit down: at first
    And last the hearty welcome.
Lords    Thanks to your majesty.

MACBETH    Ourself will mingle with society,
    And play the humble host.
    Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time
    We will require her welcome.

LADY MACBETH    Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends;
    For my heart speaks they are welcome.

    [First Murderer appears at the door]

MACBETH    See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.
    Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst:
    Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure
    The table round.

    [Approaching the door]

    There's blood on thy face.

First Murderer    'Tis Banquo's then.

MACBETH    'Tis better thee without than he within.
    Is he dispatch'd?

First Murderer    My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

MACBETH    Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet he's good
    That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
    Thou art the nonpareil.

First Murderer    Most royal sir,
    Fleance is 'scaped.

MACBETH    Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect,
    Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,
    As broad and general as the casing air:
    But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in
    To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe?

First Murderer    Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
    With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
    The least a death to nature.

MACBETH    Thanks for that:
    There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled
    Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
    No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow
    We'll hear, ourselves, again.

    [Exit Murderer]

LADY MACBETH    My royal lord,
    You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold
    That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making,
    'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home;
    From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony;
    Meeting were bare without it.

MACBETH    Sweet remembrancer!
    Now, good digestion wait on appetite,
    And health on both!

LENNOX    May't please your highness sit.

    [The GHOST OF BANQUO enters, and sits in
    MACBETH's place]

MACBETH    Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
    Were the graced person of our Banquo present;
    Who may I rather challenge for unkindness
    Than pity for mischance!

ROSS    His absence, sir,
    Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness
    To grace us with your royal company.

MACBETH    The table's full.

LENNOX                      Here is a place reserved, sir.

MACBETH    Where?

LENNOX    Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your highness?

MACBETH    Which of you have done this?

Lords    What, my good lord?

MACBETH    Thou canst not say I did it: never shake
    Thy gory locks at me.

ROSS    Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well.

LADY MACBETH    Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,
    And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
    The fit is momentary; upon a thought
    He will again be well: if much you note him,
    You shall offend him and extend his passion:
    Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?

MACBETH    Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
    Which might appal the devil.

LADY MACBETH    O proper stuff!
    This is the very painting of your fear:
    This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
    Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,
    Impostors to true fear, would well become
    A woman's story at a winter's fire,
    Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!
    Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
    You look but on a stool.

MACBETH    Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo!
    how say you?
    Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.
    If charnel-houses and our graves must send
    Those that we bury back, our monuments
    Shall be the maws of kites.

    [GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes]

LADY MACBETH    What, quite unmann'd in folly?

MACBETH    If I stand here, I saw him.

LADY MACBETH    Fie, for shame!

MACBETH    Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
    Ere human statute purged the gentle weal;
    Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
    Too terrible for the ear: the times have been,
    That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
    And there an end; but now they rise again,
    With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
    And push us from our stools: this is more strange
    Than such a murder is.

LADY MACBETH    My worthy lord,
    Your noble friends do lack you.

MACBETH    I do forget.
    Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends,
    I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
    To those that know me. Come, love and health to all;
    Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full.
    I drink to the general joy o' the whole table,
    And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;
    Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
    And all to all.

Lords                      Our duties, and the pledge.

    [Re-enter GHOST OF BANQUO]

MACBETH    Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!
    Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;
    Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
    Which thou dost glare with!

LADY MACBETH    Think of this, good peers,
    But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other;
    Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.

MACBETH    What man dare, I dare:
    Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
    The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;
    Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
    Shall never tremble: or be alive again,
    And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
    If trembling I inhabit then, protest me
    The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!
    Unreal mockery, hence!

    [GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes]

         Why, so: being gone,
    I am a man again. Pray you, sit still.

LADY MACBETH    You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,
    With most admired disorder.

MACBETH    Can such things be,
    And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
    Without our special wonder? You make me strange
    Even to the disposition that I owe,
    When now I think you can behold such sights,
    And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
    When mine is blanched with fear.

ROSS    What sights, my lord?

LADY MACBETH    I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse;
    Question enrages him. At once, good night:
    Stand not upon the order of your going,
    But go at once.

LENNOX                      Good night; and better health
    Attend his majesty!

LADY MACBETH    A kind good night to all!

    [Exeunt all but MACBETH and LADY MACBETH]

MACBETH    It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood:
    Stones have been known to move and trees to speak;
    Augurs and understood relations have
    By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth
    The secret'st man of blood. What is the night?

LADY MACBETH    Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

MACBETH    How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person
    At our great bidding?

LADY MACBETH    Did you send to him, sir?

MACBETH    I hear it by the way; but I will send:
    There's not a one of them but in his house
    I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow,
    And betimes I will, to the weird sisters:
    More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know,
    By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,
    All causes shall give way: I am in blood
    Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,
    Returning were as tedious as go o'er:
    Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
    Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.

LADY MACBETH    You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

MACBETH    Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse
    Is the initiate fear that wants hard use:
    We are yet but young in deed.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE V    A Heath.


    [Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE]

First Witch    Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.

HECATE    Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
    Saucy and overbold? How did you dare
    To trade and traffic with Macbeth
    In riddles and affairs of death;
    And I, the mistress of your charms,
    The close contriver of all harms,
    Was never call'd to bear my part,
    Or show the glory of our art?
    And, which is worse, all you have done
    Hath been but for a wayward son,
    Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,
    Loves for his own ends, not for you.
    But make amends now: get you gone,
    And at the pit of Acheron
    Meet me i' the morning: thither he
    Will come to know his destiny:
    Your vessels and your spells provide,
    Your charms and every thing beside.
    I am for the air; this night I'll spend
    Unto a dismal and a fatal end:
    Great business must be wrought ere noon:
    Upon the corner of the moon
    There hangs a vaporous drop profound;
    I'll catch it ere it come to ground:
    And that distill'd by magic sleights
    Shall raise such artificial sprites
    As by the strength of their illusion
    Shall draw him on to his confusion:
    He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
    He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:
    And you all know, security
    Is mortals' chiefest enemy.

    [Music and a song within: 'Come away, come
    away,' &c]

    Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see,
    Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me.

    [Exit]

First Witch    Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT III



SCENE VI    Forres. The palace.


    [Enter LENNOX and another Lord]

LENNOX    My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
    Which can interpret further: only, I say,
    Things have been strangely borne. The
    gracious Duncan
    Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead:
    And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late;
    Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,
    For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late.
    Who cannot want the thought how monstrous
    It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain
    To kill their gracious father? damned fact!
    How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight
    In pious rage the two delinquents tear,
    That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep?
    Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too;
    For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive
    To hear the men deny't. So that, I say,
    He has borne all things well: and I do think
    That had he Duncan's sons under his key--
    As, an't please heaven, he shall not--they
    should find
    What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance.
    But, peace! for from broad words and 'cause he fail'd
    His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear
    Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell
    Where he bestows himself?

Lord    The son of Duncan,
    From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth
    Lives in the English court, and is received
    Of the most pious Edward with such grace
    That the malevolence of fortune nothing
    Takes from his high respect: thither Macduff
    Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid
    To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward:
    That, by the help of these--with Him above
    To ratify the work--we may again
    Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,
    Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,
    Do faithful homage and receive free honours:
    All which we pine for now: and this report
    Hath so exasperate the king that he
    Prepares for some attempt of war.

LENNOX    Sent he to Macduff?

Lord    He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,'
    The cloudy messenger turns me his back,
    And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the time
    That clogs me with this answer.'

LENNOX    And that well might
    Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance
    His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel
    Fly to the court of England and unfold
    His message ere he come, that a swift blessing
    May soon return to this our suffering country
    Under a hand accursed!

Lord    I'll send my prayers with him.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT IV



SCENE I    A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.


    [Thunder. Enter the three Witches]


First Witch    Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.

Second Witch    Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.

Third Witch    Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.

First Witch    Round about the cauldron go;
    In the poison'd entrails throw.
    Toad, that under cold stone
    Days and nights has thirty-one
    Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
    Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

ALL    Double, double toil and trouble;
    Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch    Fillet of a fenny snake,
    In the cauldron boil and bake;
    Eye of newt and toe of frog,
    Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
    Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
    Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
    For a charm of powerful trouble,
    Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

ALL    Double, double toil and trouble;
    Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Third Witch    Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
    Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
    Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
    Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
    Liver of blaspheming Jew,
    Gall of goat, and slips of yew
    Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
    Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
    Finger of birth-strangled babe
    Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
    Make the gruel thick and slab:
    Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
    For the ingredients of our cauldron.

ALL    Double, double toil and trouble;
    Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch    Cool it with a baboon's blood,
    Then the charm is firm and good.

    [Enter HECATE to the other three Witches]

HECATE    O well done! I commend your pains;
    And every one shall share i' the gains;
    And now about the cauldron sing,
    Live elves and fairies in a ring,
    Enchanting all that you put in.

    [Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' &c]

    [HECATE retires]

Second Witch    By the pricking of my thumbs,
    Something wicked this way comes.
    Open, locks,
    Whoever knocks!

    [Enter MACBETH]

MACBETH    How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!
    What is't you do?

ALL                      A deed without a name.

MACBETH    I conjure you, by that which you profess,
    Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:
    Though you untie the winds and let them fight
    Against the churches; though the yesty waves
    Confound and swallow navigation up;
    Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;
    Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
    Though palaces and pyramids do slope
    Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
    Of nature's germens tumble all together,
    Even till destruction sicken; answer me
    To what I ask you.

First Witch                      Speak.

Second Witch    Demand.

Third Witch    We'll answer.

First Witch    Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths,
    Or from our masters?

MACBETH    Call 'em; let me see 'em.

First Witch    Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
    Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten
    From the murderer's gibbet throw
    Into the flame.

ALL                      Come, high or low;
    Thyself and office deftly show!

    [Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head]

MACBETH    Tell me, thou unknown power,--

First Witch    He knows thy thought:
    Hear his speech, but say thou nought.

First Apparition    Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff;
    Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.

    [Descends]

MACBETH    Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks;
    Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one
    word more,--

First Witch    He will not be commanded: here's another,
    More potent than the first.

    [Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child]

Second Apparition    Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!

MACBETH    Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee.

Second Apparition    Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn
    The power of man, for none of woman born
    Shall harm Macbeth.

    [Descends]

MACBETH    Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee?
    But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
    And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live;
    That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
    And sleep in spite of thunder.

    [Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned,
    with a tree in his hand]

                 What is this
    That rises like the issue of a king,
    And wears upon his baby-brow the round
    And top of sovereignty?

ALL    Listen, but speak not to't.

Third Apparition    Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care
    Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are:
    Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until
    Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
    Shall come against him.

    [Descends]

MACBETH    That will never be
    Who can impress the forest, bid the tree
    Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good!
    Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood
    Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
    Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
    To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart
    Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art
    Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever
    Reign in this kingdom?

ALL    Seek to know no more.

MACBETH    I will be satisfied: deny me this,
    And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know.
    Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this?

    [Hautboys]

First Witch    Show!

Second Witch    Show!

Third Witch    Show!

ALL    Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
    Come like shadows, so depart!

    [A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in
    his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following]

MACBETH    Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down!
    Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair,
    Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.
    A third is like the former. Filthy hags!
    Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes!
    What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?
    Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more:
    And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass
    Which shows me many more; and some I see
    That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry:
    Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true;
    For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me,
    And points at them for his.

    [Apparitions vanish]

              What, is this so?

First Witch    Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
    Stands Macbeth thus amazedly?
    Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
    And show the best of our delights:
    I'll charm the air to give a sound,
    While you perform your antic round:
    That this great king may kindly say,
    Our duties did his welcome pay.

    [Music. The witches dance and then vanish,
    with HECATE]

MACBETH    Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour
    Stand aye accursed in the calendar!
    Come in, without there!

    [Enter LENNOX]

LENNOX    What's your grace's will?

MACBETH    Saw you the weird sisters?

LENNOX    No, my lord.

MACBETH    Came they not by you?

LENNOX    No, indeed, my lord.

MACBETH    Infected be the air whereon they ride;
    And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear
    The galloping of horse: who was't came by?

LENNOX    'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word
    Macduff is fled to England.

MACBETH    Fled to England!

LENNOX    Ay, my good lord.

MACBETH    Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits:
    The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
    Unless the deed go with it; from this moment
    The very firstlings of my heart shall be
    The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
    To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:
    The castle of Macduff I will surprise;
    Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword
    His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
    That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;
    This deed I'll do before this purpose cool.
    But no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen?
    Come, bring me where they are.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT IV



SCENE II    Fife. Macduff's castle.


    [Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS]

LADY MACDUFF    What had he done, to make him fly the land?

ROSS    You must have patience, madam.

LADY MACDUFF    He had none:
    His flight was madness: when our actions do not,
    Our fears do make us traitors.

ROSS    You know not
    Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.

LADY MACDUFF    Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
    His mansion and his titles in a place
    From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
    He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,
    The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
    Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
    All is the fear and nothing is the love;
    As little is the wisdom, where the flight
    So runs against all reason.

ROSS    My dearest coz,
    I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,
    He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
    The fits o' the season. I dare not speak
    much further;
    But cruel are the times, when we are traitors
    And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour
    From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,
    But float upon a wild and violent sea
    Each way and move. I take my leave of you:
    Shall not be long but I'll be here again:
    Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
    To what they were before. My pretty cousin,
    Blessing upon you!

LADY MACDUFF    Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.

ROSS    I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
    It would be my disgrace and your discomfort:
    I take my leave at once.

    [Exit]

LADY MACDUFF    Sirrah, your father's dead;
    And what will you do now? How will you live?

Son    As birds do, mother.

LADY MACDUFF    What, with worms and flies?

Son    With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

LADY MACDUFF    Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime,
    The pitfall nor the gin.

Son    Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for.
    My father is not dead, for all your saying.

LADY MACDUFF    Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father?

Son    Nay, how will you do for a husband?

LADY MACDUFF    Why, I can buy me twenty at any market.

Son    Then you'll buy 'em to sell again.

LADY MACDUFF    Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith,
    With wit enough for thee.

Son    Was my father a traitor, mother?

LADY MACDUFF    Ay, that he was.

Son    What is a traitor?

LADY MACDUFF    Why, one that swears and lies.

Son    And be all traitors that do so?

LADY MACDUFF    Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged.

Son    And must they all be hanged that swear and lie?

LADY MACDUFF    Every one.

Son    Who must hang them?

LADY MACDUFF    Why, the honest men.

Son    Then the liars and swearers are fools,
    for there are liars and swearers enow to beat
    the honest men and hang up them.

LADY MACDUFF    Now, God help thee, poor monkey!
    But how wilt thou do for a father?

Son    If he were dead, you'ld weep for
    him: if you would not, it were a good sign
    that I should quickly have a new father.

LADY MACDUFF    Poor prattler, how thou talk'st!

    [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger    Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,
    Though in your state of honour I am perfect.
    I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:
    If you will take a homely man's advice,
    Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.
    To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;
    To do worse to you were fell cruelty,
    Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!
    I dare abide no longer.

    [Exit]

LADY MACDUFF    Whither should I fly?
    I have done no harm. But I remember now
    I am in this earthly world; where to do harm
    Is often laudable, to do good sometime
    Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas,
    Do I put up that womanly defence,
    To say I have done no harm?

    [Enter Murderers]

              What are these faces?

First Murderer    Where is your husband?

LADY MACDUFF    I hope, in no place so unsanctified
    Where such as thou mayst find him.

First Murderer    He's a traitor.

Son    Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain!

First Murderer    What, you egg!

    [Stabbing him]

    Young fry of treachery!

Son    He has kill'd me, mother:
    Run away, I pray you!

    [Dies]

    [Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt
    Murderers, following her]



    MACBETH


ACT IV



SCENE III    England. Before the King's palace.


    [Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF]

MALCOLM    Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
    Weep our sad bosoms empty.

MACDUFF    Let us rather
    Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men
    Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn
    New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
    Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
    As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out
    Like syllable of dolour.

MALCOLM    What I believe I'll wail,
    What know believe, and what I can redress,
    As I shall find the time to friend, I will.
    What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.
    This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
    Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.
    He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young;
    but something
    You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom
    To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb
    To appease an angry god.

MACDUFF    I am not treacherous.

MALCOLM    But Macbeth is.
    A good and virtuous nature may recoil
    In an imperial charge. But I shall crave
    your pardon;
    That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose:
    Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
    Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
    Yet grace must still look so.

MACDUFF    I have lost my hopes.

MALCOLM    Perchance even there where I did find my doubts.
    Why in that rawness left you wife and child,
    Those precious motives, those strong knots of love,
    Without leave-taking? I pray you,
    Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
    But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just,
    Whatever I shall think.

MACDUFF    Bleed, bleed, poor country!
    Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,
    For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou
    thy wrongs;
    The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord:
    I would not be the villain that thou think'st
    For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
    And the rich East to boot.

MALCOLM    Be not offended:
    I speak not as in absolute fear of you.
    I think our country sinks beneath the yoke;
    It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash
    Is added to her wounds: I think withal
    There would be hands uplifted in my right;
    And here from gracious England have I offer
    Of goodly thousands: but, for all this,
    When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
    Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
    Shall have more vices than it had before,
    More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
    By him that shall succeed.

MACDUFF    What should he be?

MALCOLM    It is myself I mean: in whom I know
    All the particulars of vice so grafted
    That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
    Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state
    Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
    With my confineless harms.

MACDUFF    Not in the legions
    Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd
    In evils to top Macbeth.

MALCOLM    I grant him bloody,
    Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,
    Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin
    That has a name: but there's no bottom, none,
    In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters,
    Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up
    The cistern of my lust, and my desire
    All continent impediments would o'erbear
    That did oppose my will: better Macbeth
    Than such an one to reign.

MACDUFF    Boundless intemperance
    In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
    The untimely emptying of the happy throne
    And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
    To take upon you what is yours: you may
    Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
    And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
    We have willing dames enough: there cannot be
    That vulture in you, to devour so many
    As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
    Finding it so inclined.

MALCOLM    With this there grows
    In my most ill-composed affection such
    A stanchless avarice that, were I king,
    I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
    Desire his jewels and this other's house:
    And my more-having would be as a sauce
    To make me hunger more; that I should forge
    Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
    Destroying them for wealth.

MACDUFF    This avarice
    Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
    Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been
    The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear;
    Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will.
    Of your mere own: all these are portable,
    With other graces weigh'd.

MALCOLM    But I have none: the king-becoming graces,
    As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
    Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
    Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
    I have no relish of them, but abound
    In the division of each several crime,
    Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
    Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
    Uproar the universal peace, confound
    All unity on earth.

MACDUFF    O Scotland, Scotland!

MALCOLM    If such a one be fit to govern, speak:
    I am as I have spoken.

MACDUFF    Fit to govern!
    No, not to live. O nation miserable,
    With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd,
    When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
    Since that the truest issue of thy throne
    By his own interdiction stands accursed,
    And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father
    Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee,
    Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,
    Died every day she lived. Fare thee well!
    These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself
    Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast,
    Thy hope ends here!

MALCOLM    Macduff, this noble passion,
    Child of integrity, hath from my soul
    Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
    To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
    By many of these trains hath sought to win me
    Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me
    From over-credulous haste: but God above
    Deal between thee and me! for even now
    I put myself to thy direction, and
    Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure
    The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
    For strangers to my nature. I am yet
    Unknown to woman, never was forsworn,
    Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,
    At no time broke my faith, would not betray
    The devil to his fellow and delight
    No less in truth than life: my first false speaking
    Was this upon myself: what I am truly,
    Is thine and my poor country's to command:
    Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,
    Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
    Already at a point, was setting forth.
    Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness
    Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?

MACDUFF    Such welcome and unwelcome things at once
    'Tis hard to reconcile.

    [Enter a Doctor]

MALCOLM    Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you?

Doctor    Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls
    That stay his cure: their malady convinces
    The great assay of art; but at his touch--
    Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand--
    They presently amend.

MALCOLM    I thank you, doctor.

    [Exit Doctor]

MACDUFF    What's the disease he means?

MALCOLM    'Tis call'd the evil:
    A most miraculous work in this good king;
    Which often, since my here-remain in England,
    I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
    Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
    All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
    The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
    Hanging a golden stamp about their necks,
    Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
    To the succeeding royalty he leaves
    The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
    He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,
    And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
    That speak him full of grace.

    [Enter ROSS]

MACDUFF    See, who comes here?

MALCOLM    My countryman; but yet I know him not.

MACDUFF    My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.

MALCOLM    I know him now. Good God, betimes remove
    The means that makes us strangers!

ROSS    Sir, amen.

MACDUFF    Stands Scotland where it did?

ROSS    Alas, poor country!
    Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot
    Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
    But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
    Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air
    Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
    A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell
    Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives
    Expire before the flowers in their caps,
    Dying or ere they sicken.

MACDUFF    O, relation
    Too nice, and yet too true!

MALCOLM    What's the newest grief?

ROSS    That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker:
    Each minute teems a new one.

MACDUFF    How does my wife?

ROSS    Why, well.

MACDUFF             And all my children?

ROSS    Well too.

MACDUFF    The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace?

ROSS    No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em.

MACDUFF    But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't?

ROSS    When I came hither to transport the tidings,
    Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
    Of many worthy fellows that were out;
    Which was to my belief witness'd the rather,
    For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot:
    Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland
    Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
    To doff their dire distresses.

MALCOLM    Be't their comfort
    We are coming thither: gracious England hath
    Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men;
    An older and a better soldier none
    That Christendom gives out.

ROSS    Would I could answer
    This comfort with the like! But I have words
    That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
    Where hearing should not latch them.

MACDUFF    What concern they?
    The general cause? or is it a fee-grief
    Due to some single breast?

ROSS    No mind that's honest
    But in it shares some woe; though the main part
    Pertains to you alone.

MACDUFF    If it be mine,
    Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.

ROSS    Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever,
    Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound
    That ever yet they heard.

MACDUFF    Hum! I guess at it.

ROSS    Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes
    Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner,
    Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
    To add the death of you.

MALCOLM    Merciful heaven!
    What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows;
    Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak
    Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.

MACDUFF    My children too?

ROSS                      Wife, children, servants, all
    That could be found.

MACDUFF    And I must be from thence!
    My wife kill'd too?

ROSS    I have said.

MALCOLM    Be comforted:
    Let's make us medicines of our great revenge,
    To cure this deadly grief.

MACDUFF    He has no children. All my pretty ones?
    Did you say all? O hell-kite! All?
    What, all my pretty chickens and their dam
    At one fell swoop?

MALCOLM    Dispute it like a man.

MACDUFF    I shall do so;
    But I must also feel it as a man:
    I cannot but remember such things were,
    That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,
    And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,
    They were all struck for thee! naught that I am,
    Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
    Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now!

MALCOLM    Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
    Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.

MACDUFF    O, I could play the woman with mine eyes
    And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens,
    Cut short all intermission; front to front
    Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
    Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
    Heaven forgive him too!

MALCOLM    This tune goes manly.
    Come, go we to the king; our power is ready;
    Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth
    Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
    Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may:
    The night is long that never finds the day.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE I    Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle.


    [Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman]

Doctor    I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive
    no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?

Gentlewoman    Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen
    her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon
    her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it,
    write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again
    return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

Doctor    A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once
    the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of
    watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her
    walking and other actual performances, what, at any
    time, have you heard her say?

Gentlewoman    That, sir, which I will not report after her.

Doctor    You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should.

Gentlewoman    Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to
    confirm my speech.

    [Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper]

    Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise;
    and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close.

Doctor    How came she by that light?

Gentlewoman    Why, it stood by her: she has light by her
    continually; 'tis her command.

Doctor    You see, her eyes are open.

Gentlewoman    Ay, but their sense is shut.

Doctor    What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.

Gentlewoman    It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus
    washing her hands: I have known her continue in
    this a quarter of an hour.

LADY MACBETH    Yet here's a spot.

Doctor    Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from
    her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.

LADY MACBETH    Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why,
    then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my
    lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we
    fear who knows it, when none can call our power to
    account?--Yet who would have thought the old man
    to have had so much blood in him.

Doctor    Do you mark that?

LADY MACBETH    The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?--
    What, will these hands ne'er be clean?--No more o'
    that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with
    this starting.

Doctor    Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.

Gentlewoman    She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of
    that: heaven knows what she has known.

LADY MACBETH    Here's the smell of the blood still: all the
    perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little
    hand. Oh, oh, oh!

Doctor    What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.

Gentlewoman    I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the
    dignity of the whole body.

Doctor    Well, well, well,--

Gentlewoman    Pray God it be, sir.

Doctor    This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known
    those which have walked in their sleep who have died
    holily in their beds.

LADY MACBETH    Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so
    pale.--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he
    cannot come out on's grave.

Doctor    Even so?

LADY MACBETH    To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate:
    come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's
    done cannot be undone.--To bed, to bed, to bed!

    [Exit]

Doctor    Will she go now to bed?

Gentlewoman    Directly.

Doctor    Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds
    Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds
    To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets:
    More needs she the divine than the physician.
    God, God forgive us all! Look after her;
    Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
    And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night:
    My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight.
    I think, but dare not speak.

Gentlewoman    Good night, good doctor.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH

ACT V



SCENE II    The country near Dunsinane.


    [Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS,
    LENNOX, and Soldiers]

MENTEITH    The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,
    His uncle Siward and the good Macduff:
    Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes
    Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm
    Excite the mortified man.

ANGUS    Near Birnam wood
    Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming.

CAITHNESS    Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother?

LENNOX    For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file
    Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son,
    And many unrough youths that even now
    Protest their first of manhood.

MENTEITH    What does the tyrant?

CAITHNESS    Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies:
    Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him
    Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
    He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
    Within the belt of rule.

ANGUS    Now does he feel
    His secret murders sticking on his hands;
    Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach;
    Those he commands move only in command,
    Nothing in love: now does he feel his title
    Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
    Upon a dwarfish thief.

MENTEITH    Who then shall blame
    His pester'd senses to recoil and start,
    When all that is within him does condemn
    Itself for being there?

CAITHNESS    Well, march we on,
    To give obedience where 'tis truly owed:
    Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal,
    And with him pour we in our country's purge
    Each drop of us.

LENNOX                      Or so much as it needs,
    To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds.
    Make we our march towards Birnam.

    [Exeunt, marching]




    MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE III    Dunsinane. A room in the castle.


    [Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants]

MACBETH    Bring me no more reports; let them fly all:
    Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
    I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
    Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know
    All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus:
    'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman
    Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly,
    false thanes,
    And mingle with the English epicures:
    The mind I sway by and the heart I bear
    Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear.

    [Enter a Servant]

    The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
    Where got'st thou that goose look?

Servant    There is ten thousand--

MACBETH    Geese, villain!

Servant    Soldiers, sir.

MACBETH    Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
    Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch?
    Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine
    Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face?

Servant    The English force, so please you.

MACBETH    Take thy face hence.

    [Exit Servant]

        Seyton!--I am sick at heart,
    When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push
    Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
    I have lived long enough: my way of life
    Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf;
    And that which should accompany old age,
    As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
    I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
    Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
    Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton!

    [Enter SEYTON]

SEYTON    What is your gracious pleasure?

MACBETH    What news more?

SEYTON    All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.

MACBETH    I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
    Give me my armour.

SEYTON    'Tis not needed yet.

MACBETH    I'll put it on.
    Send out more horses; skirr the country round;
    Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour.
    How does your patient, doctor?

Doctor    Not so sick, my lord,
    As she is troubled with thick coming fancies,
    That keep her from her rest.

MACBETH    Cure her of that.
    Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
    Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
    Raze out the written troubles of the brain
    And with some sweet oblivious antidote
    Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
    Which weighs upon the heart?

Doctor    Therein the patient
    Must minister to himself.

MACBETH    Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
    Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff.
    Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me.
    Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast
    The water of my land, find her disease,
    And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
    I would applaud thee to the very echo,
    That should applaud again.--Pull't off, I say.--
    What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug,
    Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them?

Doctor    Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation
    Makes us hear something.

MACBETH    Bring it after me.
    I will not be afraid of death and bane,
    Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.

Doctor    [Aside]  Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
    Profit again should hardly draw me here.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE IV    Country near Birnam wood.


    [Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG
    SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS,
    LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching]

MALCOLM    Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand
    That chambers will be safe.

MENTEITH    We doubt it nothing.

SIWARD    What wood is this before us?

MENTEITH    The wood of Birnam.

MALCOLM    Let every soldier hew him down a bough
    And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow
    The numbers of our host and make discovery
    Err in report of us.

Soldiers    It shall be done.

SIWARD    We learn no other but the confident tyrant
    Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
    Our setting down before 't.

MALCOLM    'Tis his main hope:
    For where there is advantage to be given,
    Both more and less have given him the revolt,
    And none serve with him but constrained things
    Whose hearts are absent too.

MACDUFF    Let our just censures
    Attend the true event, and put we on
    Industrious soldiership.

SIWARD    The time approaches
    That will with due decision make us know
    What we shall say we have and what we owe.
    Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,
    But certain issue strokes must arbitrate:
    Towards which advance the war.

    [Exeunt, marching]




    MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE V    Dunsinane. Within the castle.


    [Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum
    and colours]

MACBETH    Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
    The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength
    Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie
    Till famine and the ague eat them up:
    Were they not forced with those that should be ours,
    We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
    And beat them backward home.

    [A cry of women within]

               What is that noise?

SEYTON    It is the cry of women, my good lord.

    [Exit]

MACBETH    I have almost forgot the taste of fears;
    The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
    To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
    Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
    As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
    Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts
    Cannot once start me.

    [Re-enter SEYTON]

        Wherefore was that cry?

SEYTON    The queen, my lord, is dead.

MACBETH    She should have died hereafter;
    There would have been a time for such a word.
    To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
    Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
    To the last syllable of recorded time,
    And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
    The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
    Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
    That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
    And then is heard no more: it is a tale
    Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
    Signifying nothing.

    [Enter a Messenger]

    Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

Messenger    Gracious my lord,
    I should report that which I say I saw,
    But know not how to do it.

MACBETH    Well, say, sir.

Messenger    As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
    I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
    The wood began to move.

MACBETH    Liar and slave!

Messenger    Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so:
    Within this three mile may you see it coming;
    I say, a moving grove.

MACBETH    If thou speak'st false,
    Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
    Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
    I care not if thou dost for me as much.
    I pull in resolution, and begin
    To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
    That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood
    Do come to Dunsinane:'  and now a wood
    Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
    If this which he avouches does appear,
    There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.
    I gin to be aweary of the sun,
    And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
    Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
    At least we'll die with harness on our back.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE VI    Dunsinane. Before the castle.


    [Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF,
    and their Army, with boughs]

MALCOLM    Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down.
    And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle,
    Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
    Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we
    Shall take upon 's what else remains to do,
    According to our order.

SIWARD    Fare you well.
    Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
    Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.

MACDUFF    Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath,
    Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.

    [Exeunt]




    MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE VII    Another part of the field.


    [Alarums. Enter MACBETH]

MACBETH    They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,
    But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he
    That was not born of woman? Such a one
    Am I to fear, or none.

    [Enter YOUNG SIWARD]

YOUNG SIWARD    What is thy name?

MACBETH                      Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.

YOUNG SIWARD    No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
    Than any is in hell.

MACBETH    My name's Macbeth.

YOUNG SIWARD    The devil himself could not pronounce a title
    More hateful to mine ear.

MACBETH    No, nor more fearful.

YOUNG SIWARD    Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword
    I'll prove the lie thou speak'st.

    [They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain]

MACBETH    Thou wast born of woman
    But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
    Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born.

    [Exit]

    [Alarums. Enter MACDUFF]

MACDUFF    That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!
    If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine,
    My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
    I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms
    Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth,
    Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge
    I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be;
    By this great clatter, one of greatest note
    Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune!
    And more I beg not.

    [Exit. Alarums]

    [Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD]

SIWARD    This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd:
    The tyrant's people on both sides do fight;
    The noble thanes do bravely in the war;
    The day almost itself professes yours,
    And little is to do.

MALCOLM    We have met with foes
    That strike beside us.

SIWARD    Enter, sir, the castle.

    [Exeunt. Alarums]




    MACBETH


ACT V



SCENE VIII    Another part of the field.


    [Enter MACBETH]

MACBETH    Why should I play the Roman fool, and die
    On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes
    Do better upon them.

    [Enter MACDUFF]

MACDUFF    Turn, hell-hound, turn!

MACBETH    Of all men else I have avoided thee:
    But get thee back; my soul is too much charged
    With blood of thine already.

MACDUFF    I have no words:
    My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain
    Than terms can give thee out!

    [They fight]

MACBETH    Thou losest labour:
    As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
    With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:
    Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
    I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,
    To one of woman born.

MACDUFF    Despair thy charm;
    And let the angel whom thou still hast served
    Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
    Untimely ripp'd.

MACBETH    Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
    For it hath cow'd my better part of man!
    And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
    That palter with us in a double sense;
    That keep the word of promise to our ear,
    And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee.

MACDUFF    Then yield thee, coward,
    And live to be the show and gaze o' the time:
    We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
    Painted on a pole, and underwrit,
    'Here may you see the tyrant.'

MACBETH    I will not yield,
    To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
    And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
    Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
    And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
    Yet I will try the last. Before my body
    I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,
    And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

    [Exeunt, fighting. Alarums]

    [Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours,
    MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers]

MALCOLM    I would the friends we miss were safe arrived.

SIWARD    Some must go off: and yet, by these I see,
    So great a day as this is cheaply bought.

MALCOLM    Macduff is missing, and your noble son.

ROSS    Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
    He only lived but till he was a man;
    The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
    In the unshrinking station where he fought,
    But like a man he died.

SIWARD    Then he is dead?

ROSS    Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
    Must not be measured by his worth, for then
    It hath no end.

SIWARD                      Had he his hurts before?

ROSS    Ay, on the front.

SIWARD                      Why then, God's soldier be he!
    Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
    I would not wish them to a fairer death:
    And so, his knell is knoll'd.

MALCOLM    He's worth more sorrow,
    And that I'll spend for him.

SIWARD    He's worth no more
    They say he parted well, and paid his score:
    And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort.

    [Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head]

MACDUFF    Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
    The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:
    I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,
    That speak my salutation in their minds;
    Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
    Hail, King of Scotland!

ALL    Hail, King of Scotland!

    [Flourish]

MALCOLM    We shall not spend a large expense of time
    Before we reckon with your several loves,
    And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
    Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
    In such an honour named. What's more to do,
    Which would be planted newly with the time,
    As calling home our exiled friends abroad
    That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;
    Producing forth the cruel ministers
    Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
    Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
    Took off her life; this, and what needful else
    That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,
    We will perform in measure, time and place:
    So, thanks to all at once and to each one,
    Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.

    [Flourish. Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE



MARK ANTONY        |
        |
OCTAVIUS CAESAR        |  triumvirs.
        |
M. AEMILIUS        |
LEPIDUS    (LEPIDUS:)    |


SEXTUS POMPEIUS    (POMPEY:)


DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    |
    |
VENTIDIUS    |
    |
EROS    |
    |
SCARUS    |  friends to Antony.
    |
DERCETAS    |
    |
DEMETRIUS    |
    |
PHILO    |


MECAENAS    |
    |
AGRIPPA    |
    |
DOLABELLA    |
    |
PROCULEIUS    |  friends to Caesar.
    |
THYREUS    |
    |
GALLUS    |
    |
MENAS    |


MENECRATES    |
    |  friends to Pompey.
VARRIUS    |


TAURUS    lieutenant-general to Caesar.

CANIDIUS    lieutenant-general to Antony.

SILIUS    an officer in Ventidius's army.

EUPHRONIUS    an ambassador from Antony to Caesar.


ALEXAS        |
        |
MARDIAN    a Eunuch.    |
        |  attendants on Cleopatra.
SELEUCUS        |
        |
DIOMEDES        |


    A Soothsayer. (Soothsayer:)

    A Clown. (Clown:)

CLEOPATRA    queen of Egypt.

OCTAVIA    sister to Caesar and wife to Antony.


CHARMIAN    |
    |  attendants on Cleopatra.
IRAS    |


    Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants.
    (First Officer:)
    (Second Officer:)
    (Third Officer:)
    (Messenger:)
    (Second Messenger:)
    (First Servant:)
    (Second Servant:)
    (Egyptian:)
    (Guard:)
    (First Guard:)
    (Second Guard:)
    (Attendant:)
    (First Attendant:)
    (Second Attendant:)



SCENE    In several parts of the Roman empire.




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE I    Alexandria. A room in CLEOPATRA's palace.


    [Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO]

PHILO    Nay, but this dotage of our general's
    O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
    That o'er the files and musters of the war
    Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
    The office and devotion of their view
    Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
    Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
    The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper,
    And is become the bellows and the fan
    To cool a gipsy's lust.

    [Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, her Ladies,
    the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her]

          Look, where they come:
    Take but good note, and you shall see in him.
    The triple pillar of the world transform'd
    Into a strumpet's fool: behold and see.

CLEOPATRA    If it be love indeed, tell me how much.

MARK ANTONY    There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

CLEOPATRA    I'll set a bourn how far to be beloved.

MARK ANTONY    Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

    [Enter an Attendant]

Attendant    News, my good lord, from Rome.

MARK ANTONY    Grates me: the sum.

CLEOPATRA    Nay, hear them, Antony:
    Fulvia perchance is angry; or, who knows
    If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent
    His powerful mandate to you, 'Do this, or this;
    Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that;
    Perform 't, or else we damn thee.'

MARK ANTONY    How, my love!

CLEOPATRA    Perchance! nay, and most like:
    You must not stay here longer, your dismission
    Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony.
    Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's I would say? both?
    Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen,
    Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
    Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame
    When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers!

MARK ANTONY    Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
    Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space.
    Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
    Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
    Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair

    [Embracing]

    And such a twain can do't, in which I bind,
    On pain of punishment, the world to weet
    We stand up peerless.

CLEOPATRA    Excellent falsehood!
    Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?
    I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony
    Will be himself.

MARK ANTONY                      But stirr'd by Cleopatra.
    Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours,
    Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
    There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
    Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight?

CLEOPATRA    Hear the ambassadors.

MARK ANTONY    Fie, wrangling queen!
    Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
    To weep; whose every passion fully strives
    To make itself, in thee, fair and admired!
    No messenger, but thine; and all alone
    To-night we'll wander through the streets and note
    The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
    Last night you did desire it: speak not to us.

    [Exeunt MARK ANTONY and CLEOPATRA with
    their train]

DEMETRIUS    Is Caesar with Antonius prized so slight?

PHILO    Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,
    He comes too short of that great property
    Which still should go with Antony.

DEMETRIUS    I am full sorry
    That he approves the common liar, who
    Thus speaks of him at Rome: but I will hope
    Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE II    The same. Another room.


    [Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a Soothsayer]

CHARMIAN    Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas,
    almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer
    that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew
    this husband, which, you say, must charge his horns
    with garlands!

ALEXAS    Soothsayer!

Soothsayer    Your will?

CHARMIAN    Is this the man? Is't you, sir, that know things?

Soothsayer    In nature's infinite book of secrecy
    A little I can read.

ALEXAS    Show him your hand.

    [Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough
    Cleopatra's health to drink.

CHARMIAN    Good sir, give me good fortune.

Soothsayer    I make not, but foresee.

CHARMIAN    Pray, then, foresee me one.

Soothsayer    You shall be yet far fairer than you are.

CHARMIAN    He means in flesh.

IRAS    No, you shall paint when you are old.

CHARMIAN    Wrinkles forbid!

ALEXAS    Vex not his prescience; be attentive.

CHARMIAN    Hush!

Soothsayer    You shall be more beloving than beloved.

CHARMIAN    I had rather heat my liver with drinking.

ALEXAS    Nay, hear him.

CHARMIAN    Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married
    to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all:
    let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry
    may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius
    Caesar, and companion me with my mistress.

Soothsayer    You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.

CHARMIAN    O excellent! I love long life better than figs.

Soothsayer    You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune
    Than that which is to approach.

CHARMIAN    Then belike my children shall have no names:
    prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Soothsayer    If every of your wishes had a womb.
    And fertile every wish, a million.

CHARMIAN    Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.

ALEXAS    You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

CHARMIAN    Nay, come, tell Iras hers.

ALEXAS    We'll know all our fortunes.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall
    be--drunk to bed.

IRAS    There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

CHARMIAN    E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

IRAS    Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.

CHARMIAN    Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful
    prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee,
    tell her but a worky-day fortune.

Soothsayer    Your fortunes are alike.

IRAS    But how, but how? give me particulars.

Soothsayer    I have said.

IRAS    Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?

CHARMIAN    Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than
    I, where would you choose it?

IRAS    Not in my husband's nose.

CHARMIAN    Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas,--come,
    his fortune, his fortune! O, let him marry a woman
    that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! and let
    her die too, and give him a worse! and let worst
    follow worse, till the worst of all follow him
    laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good
    Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a
    matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

IRAS    Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people!
    for, as it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man
    loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a
    foul knave uncuckolded: therefore, dear Isis, keep
    decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

CHARMIAN    Amen.

ALEXAS    Lo, now, if it lay in their hands to make me a
    cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but
    they'ld do't!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Hush! here comes Antony.

CHARMIAN    Not he; the queen.

    [Enter CLEOPATRA]

CLEOPATRA    Saw you my lord?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS                      No, lady.

CLEOPATRA    Was he not here?

CHARMIAN    No, madam.

CLEOPATRA    He was disposed to mirth; but on the sudden
    A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Madam?

CLEOPATRA    Seek him, and bring him hither.
    Where's Alexas?

ALEXAS    Here, at your service. My lord approaches.

CLEOPATRA    We will not look upon him: go with us.

    [Exeunt]

    [Enter MARK ANTONY with a Messenger and Attendants]

Messenger    Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.

MARK ANTONY    Against my brother Lucius?

Messenger    Ay:
    But soon that war had end, and the time's state
    Made friends of them, joining their force 'gainst Caesar;
    Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,
    Upon the first encounter, drave them.

MARK ANTONY    Well, what worst?

Messenger    The nature of bad news infects the teller.

MARK ANTONY    When it concerns the fool or coward. On:
    Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus:
    Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death,
    I hear him as he flatter'd.

Messenger    Labienus--
    This is stiff news--hath, with his Parthian force,
    Extended Asia from Euphrates;
    His conquering banner shook from Syria
    To Lydia and to Ionia; Whilst--

MARK ANTONY    Antony, thou wouldst say,--

Messenger    O, my lord!

MARK ANTONY    Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue:
    Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome;
    Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults
    With such full licence as both truth and malice
    Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds,
    When our quick minds lie still; and our ills told us
    Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.

Messenger    At your noble pleasure.

    [Exit]

MARK ANTONY    From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there!

First Attendant    The man from Sicyon,--is there such an one?

Second Attendant    He stays upon your will.

MARK ANTONY    Let him appear.
    These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,
    Or lose myself in dotage.

    [Enter another Messenger]

            What are you?

Second Messenger    Fulvia thy wife is dead.

MARK ANTONY    Where died she?

Second Messenger    In Sicyon:
    Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
    Importeth thee to know, this bears.

    [Gives a letter]

MARK ANTONY    Forbear me.

    [Exit Second Messenger]

    There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
    What our contempt doth often hurl from us,
    We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
    By revolution lowering, does become
    The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
    The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on.
    I must from this enchanting queen break off:
    Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
    My idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!

    [Re-enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    What's your pleasure, sir?

MARK ANTONY    I must with haste from hence.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Why, then, we kill all our women:
    we see how mortal an unkindness is to them;
    if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

MARK ANTONY    I must be gone.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Under a compelling occasion, let women die; it were
    pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between
    them and a great cause, they should be esteemed
    nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of
    this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty
    times upon far poorer moment: I do think there is
    mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon
    her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

MARK ANTONY    She is cunning past man's thought.

    [Exit ALEXAS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but
    the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her
    winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater
    storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this
    cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a
    shower of rain as well as Jove.

MARK ANTONY    Would I had never seen her.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece
    of work; which not to have been blest withal would
    have discredited your travel.

MARK ANTONY    Fulvia is dead.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Sir?

MARK ANTONY    Fulvia is dead.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Fulvia!

MARK ANTONY    Dead.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When
    it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man
    from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth;
    comforting therein, that when old robes are worn
    out, there are members to make new. If there were
    no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut,
    and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned
    with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new
    petticoat: and indeed the tears live in an onion
    that should water this sorrow.

MARK ANTONY    The business she hath broached in the state
    Cannot endure my absence.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    And the business you have broached here cannot be
    without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which
    wholly depends on your abode.

MARK ANTONY    No more light answers. Let our officers
    Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
    The cause of our expedience to the queen,
    And get her leave to part. For not alone
    The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,
    Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too
    Of many our contriving friends in Rome
    Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius
    Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands
    The empire of the sea: our slippery people,
    Whose love is never link'd to the deserver
    Till his deserts are past, begin to throw
    Pompey the Great and all his dignities
    Upon his son; who, high in name and power,
    Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
    For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,
    The sides o' the world may danger: much is breeding,
    Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
    And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,
    To such whose place is under us, requires
    Our quick remove from hence.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I shall do't.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE III    The same. Another room.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

CLEOPATRA    Where is he?

CHARMIAN                      I did not see him since.

CLEOPATRA    See where he is, who's with him, what he does:
    I did not send you: if you find him sad,
    Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report
    That I am sudden sick: quick, and return.

    [Exit ALEXAS]

CHARMIAN    Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,
    You do not hold the method to enforce
    The like from him.

CLEOPATRA                      What should I do, I do not?

CHARMIAN    In each thing give him way, cross him nothing.

CLEOPATRA    Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him.

CHARMIAN    Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear:
    In time we hate that which we often fear.
    But here comes Antony.

    [Enter MARK ANTONY]

CLEOPATRA    I am sick and sullen.

MARK ANTONY    I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,--

CLEOPATRA    Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall:
    It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature
    Will not sustain it.

MARK ANTONY    Now, my dearest queen,--

CLEOPATRA    Pray you, stand further from me.

MARK ANTONY    What's the matter?

CLEOPATRA    I know, by that same eye, there's some good news.
    What says the married woman? You may go:
    Would she had never given you leave to come!
    Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here:
    I have no power upon you; hers you are.

MARK ANTONY    The gods best know,--

CLEOPATRA    O, never was there queen
    So mightily betray'd! yet at the first
    I saw the treasons planted.

MARK ANTONY    Cleopatra,--

CLEOPATRA    Why should I think you can be mine and true,
    Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
    Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
    To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
    Which break themselves in swearing!

MARK ANTONY    Most sweet queen,--

CLEOPATRA    Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,
    But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
    Then was the time for words: no going then;
    Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
    Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor,
    But was a race of heaven: they are so still,
    Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
    Art turn'd the greatest liar.

MARK ANTONY    How now, lady!

CLEOPATRA    I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know
    There were a heart in Egypt.

MARK ANTONY    Hear me, queen:
    The strong necessity of time commands
    Our services awhile; but my full heart
    Remains in use with you. Our Italy
    Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
    Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:
    Equality of two domestic powers
    Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength,
    Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
    Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace,
    Into the hearts of such as have not thrived
    Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
    And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
    By any desperate change: my more particular,
    And that which most with you should safe my going,
    Is Fulvia's death.

CLEOPATRA    Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
    It does from childishness: can Fulvia die?

MARK ANTONY    She's dead, my queen:
    Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
    The garboils she awaked; at the last, best:
    See when and where she died.

CLEOPATRA    O most false love!
    Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
    With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
    In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be.

MARK ANTONY    Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know
    The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
    As you shall give the advice. By the fire
    That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
    Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war
    As thou affect'st.

CLEOPATRA                      Cut my lace, Charmian, come;
    But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well,
    So Antony loves.

MARK ANTONY                      My precious queen, forbear;
    And give true evidence to his love, which stands
    An honourable trial.

CLEOPATRA    So Fulvia told me.
    I prithee, turn aside and weep for her,
    Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
    Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene
    Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
    Life perfect honour.

MARK ANTONY    You'll heat my blood: no more.

CLEOPATRA    You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

MARK ANTONY    Now, by my sword,--

CLEOPATRA    And target. Still he mends;
    But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,
    How this Herculean Roman does become
    The carriage of his chafe.

MARK ANTONY    I'll leave you, lady.

CLEOPATRA    Courteous lord, one word.
    Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:
    Sir, you and I have loved, but there's not it;
    That you know well: something it is I would,
    O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
    And I am all forgotten.

MARK ANTONY    But that your royalty
    Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
    For idleness itself.

CLEOPATRA    'Tis sweating labour
    To bear such idleness so near the heart
    As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
    Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
    Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence;
    Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly.
    And all the gods go with you! upon your sword
    Sit laurel victory! and smooth success
    Be strew'd before your feet!

MARK ANTONY    Let us go. Come;
    Our separation so abides, and flies,
    That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
    And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away!

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE IV    Rome. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house.


    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter, LEPIDUS,
    and their Train]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
    It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate
    Our great competitor: from Alexandria
    This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes
    The lamps of night in revel; is not more man-like
    Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
    More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or
    Vouchsafed to think he had partners: you shall find there
    A man who is the abstract of all faults
    That all men follow.

LEPIDUS    I must not think there are
    Evils enow to darken all his goodness:
    His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven,
    More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
    Rather than purchased; what he cannot change,
    Than what he chooses.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not
    Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
    To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
    And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
    To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
    With knaves that smell of sweat: say this
    becomes him,--
    As his composure must be rare indeed
    Whom these things cannot blemish,--yet must Antony
    No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
    So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
    His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
    Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
    Call on him for't: but to confound such time,
    That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
    As his own state and ours,--'tis to be chid
    As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge,
    Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
    And so rebel to judgment.

    [Enter a Messenger]

LEPIDUS    Here's more news.

Messenger    Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,
    Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report
    How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
    And it appears he is beloved of those
    That only have fear'd Caesar: to the ports
    The discontents repair, and men's reports
    Give him much wrong'd.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    I should have known no less.
    It hath been taught us from the primal state,
    That he which is was wish'd until he were;
    And the ebb'd man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love,
    Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body,
    Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
    Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,
    To rot itself with motion.

Messenger    Caesar, I bring thee word,
    Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
    Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound
    With keels of every kind: many hot inroads
    They make in Italy; the borders maritime
    Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt:
    No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon
    Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
    Than could his war resisted.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Antony,
    Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once
    Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
    Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
    Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
    Though daintily brought up, with patience more
    Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink
    The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle
    Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did deign
    The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
    Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
    The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
    It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,
    Which some did die to look on: and all this--
    It wounds thine honour that I speak it now--
    Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
    So much as lank'd not.

LEPIDUS    'Tis pity of him.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Let his shames quickly
    Drive him to Rome: 'tis time we twain
    Did show ourselves i' the field; and to that end
    Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
    Thrives in our idleness.

LEPIDUS    To-morrow, Caesar,
    I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
    Both what by sea and land I can be able
    To front this present time.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Till which encounter,
    It is my business too. Farewell.

LEPIDUS    Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime
    Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
    To let me be partaker.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Doubt not, sir;
    I knew it for my bond.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT I



SCENE V    Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN]

CLEOPATRA    Charmian!

CHARMIAN    Madam?

CLEOPATRA    Ha, ha!
    Give me to drink mandragora.

CHARMIAN    Why, madam?

CLEOPATRA    That I might sleep out this great gap of time
    My Antony is away.

CHARMIAN                      You think of him too much.

CLEOPATRA    O, 'tis treason!

CHARMIAN                      Madam, I trust, not so.

CLEOPATRA    Thou, eunuch Mardian!

MARDIAN    What's your highness' pleasure?

CLEOPATRA    Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure
    In aught an eunuch has: 'tis well for thee,
    That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
    May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

MARDIAN    Yes, gracious madam.

CLEOPATRA    Indeed!

MARDIAN    Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing
    But what indeed is honest to be done:
    Yet have I fierce affections, and think
    What Venus did with Mars.

CLEOPATRA    O Charmian,
    Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
    Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
    O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
    Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou movest?
    The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
    And burgonet of men. He's speaking now,
    Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?'
    For so he calls me: now I feed myself
    With most delicious poison. Think on me,
    That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
    And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,
    When thou wast here above the ground, I was
    A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
    Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;
    There would he anchor his aspect and die
    With looking on his life.

    [Enter ALEXAS, from OCTAVIUS CAESAR]

ALEXAS    Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

CLEOPATRA    How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
    Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
    With his tinct gilded thee.
    How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

ALEXAS    Last thing he did, dear queen,
    He kiss'd,--the last of many doubled kisses,--
    This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.

CLEOPATRA    Mine ear must pluck it thence.

ALEXAS    'Good friend,' quoth he,
    'Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
    This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
    To mend the petty present, I will piece
    Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the east,
    Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,
    And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,
    Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
    Was beastly dumb'd by him.

CLEOPATRA    What, was he sad or merry?

ALEXAS    Like to the time o' the year between the extremes
    Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.

CLEOPATRA    O well-divided disposition! Note him,
    Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him:
    He was not sad, for he would shine on those
    That make their looks by his; he was not merry,
    Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
    In Egypt with his joy; but between both:
    O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,
    The violence of either thee becomes,
    So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?

ALEXAS    Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
    Why do you send so thick?

CLEOPATRA    Who's born that day
    When I forget to send to Antony,
    Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.
    Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,
    Ever love Caesar so?

CHARMIAN    O that brave Caesar!

CLEOPATRA    Be choked with such another emphasis!
    Say, the brave Antony.

CHARMIAN    The valiant Caesar!

CLEOPATRA    By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
    If thou with Caesar paragon again
    My man of men.

CHARMIAN                      By your most gracious pardon,
    I sing but after you.

CLEOPATRA    My salad days,
    When I was green in judgment: cold in blood,
    To say as I said then! But, come, away;
    Get me ink and paper:
    He shall have every day a several greeting,
    Or I'll unpeople Egypt.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE I    Messina. POMPEY's house.


    [Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS, in
    warlike manner]

POMPEY    If the great gods be just, they shall assist
    The deeds of justest men.

MENECRATES    Know, worthy Pompey,
    That what they do delay, they not deny.

POMPEY    Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays
    The thing we sue for.

MENECRATES    We, ignorant of ourselves,
    Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
    Deny us for our good; so find we profit
    By losing of our prayers.

POMPEY    I shall do well:
    The people love me, and the sea is mine;
    My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope
    Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony
    In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make
    No wars without doors: Caesar gets money where
    He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,
    Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,
    Nor either cares for him.

MENAS    Caesar and Lepidus
    Are in the field: a mighty strength they carry.

POMPEY    Where have you this? 'tis false.

MENAS    From Silvius, sir.

POMPEY    He dreams: I know they are in Rome together,
    Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love,
    Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip!
    Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
    Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
    Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks
    Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
    That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour
    Even till a Lethe'd dulness!

    [Enter VARRIUS]

               How now, Varrius!

VARRIUS    This is most certain that I shall deliver:
    Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
    Expected: since he went from Egypt 'tis
    A space for further travel.

POMPEY    I could have given less matter
    A better ear. Menas, I did not think
    This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm
    For such a petty war: his soldiership
    Is twice the other twain: but let us rear
    The higher our opinion, that our stirring
    Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
    The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony.

MENAS    I cannot hope
    Caesar and Antony shall well greet together:
    His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar;
    His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,
    Not moved by Antony.

POMPEY    I know not, Menas,
    How lesser enmities may give way to greater.
    Were't not that we stand up against them all,
    'Twere pregnant they should square between
    themselves;
    For they have entertained cause enough
    To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
    May cement their divisions and bind up
    The petty difference, we yet not know.
    Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands
    Our lives upon to use our strongest hands.
    Come, Menas.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE II    Rome. The house of LEPIDUS.


    [Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS]

LEPIDUS    Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,
    And shall become you well, to entreat your captain
    To soft and gentle speech.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I shall entreat him
    To answer like himself: if Caesar move him,
    Let Antony look over Caesar's head
    And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
    Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,
    I would not shave't to-day.

LEPIDUS    'Tis not a time
    For private stomaching.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Every time
    Serves for the matter that is then born in't.

LEPIDUS    But small to greater matters must give way.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Not if the small come first.

LEPIDUS    Your speech is passion:
    But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes
    The noble Antony.

    [Enter MARK ANTONY and VENTIDIUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS                      And yonder, Caesar.

    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MECAENAS, and AGRIPPA]

MARK ANTONY    If we compose well here, to Parthia:
    Hark, Ventidius.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR                      I do not know,
    Mecaenas; ask Agrippa.

LEPIDUS    Noble friends,
    That which combined us was most great, and let not
    A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
    May it be gently heard: when we debate
    Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
    Murder in healing wounds: then, noble partners,
    The rather, for I earnestly beseech,
    Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
    Nor curstness grow to the matter.

MARK ANTONY    'Tis spoken well.
    Were we before our armies, and to fight.
    I should do thus.

    [Flourish]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Welcome to Rome.

MARK ANTONY                      Thank you.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Sit.

MARK ANTONY    Sit, sir.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Nay, then.

MARK ANTONY    I learn, you take things ill which are not so,
    Or being, concern you not.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    I must be laugh'd at,
    If, or for nothing or a little, I
    Should say myself offended, and with you
    Chiefly i' the world; more laugh'd at, that I should
    Once name you derogately, when to sound your name
    It not concern'd me.

MARK ANTONY    My being in Egypt, Caesar,
    What was't to you?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    No more than my residing here at Rome
    Might be to you in Egypt: yet, if you there
    Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt
    Might be my question.

MARK ANTONY    How intend you, practised?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    You may be pleased to catch at mine intent
    By what did here befal me. Your wife and brother
    Made wars upon me; and their contestation
    Was theme for you, you were the word of war.

MARK ANTONY    You do mistake your business; my brother never
    Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it;
    And have my learning from some true reports,
    That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather
    Discredit my authority with yours;
    And make the wars alike against my stomach,
    Having alike your cause? Of this my letters
    Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel,
    As matter whole you have not to make it with,
    It must not be with this.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    You praise yourself
    By laying defects of judgment to me; but
    You patch'd up your excuses.

MARK ANTONY    Not so, not so;
    I know you could not lack, I am certain on't,
    Very necessity of this thought, that I,
    Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
    Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars
    Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife,
    I would you had her spirit in such another:
    The third o' the world is yours; which with a snaffle
    You may pace easy, but not such a wife.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Would we had all such wives, that the men might go
    to wars with the women!

MARK ANTONY    So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar
    Made out of her impatience, which not wanted
    Shrewdness of policy too, I grieving grant
    Did you too much disquiet: for that you must
    But say, I could not help it.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    I wrote to you
    When rioting in Alexandria; you
    Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts
    Did gibe my missive out of audience.

MARK ANTONY    Sir,
    He fell upon me ere admitted: then
    Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want
    Of what I was i' the morning: but next day
    I told him of myself; which was as much
    As to have ask'd him pardon. Let this fellow
    Be nothing of our strife; if we contend,
    Out of our question wipe him.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    You have broken
    The article of your oath; which you shall never
    Have tongue to charge me with.

LEPIDUS    Soft, Caesar!

MARK ANTONY    No,
    Lepidus, let him speak:
    The honour is sacred which he talks on now,
    Supposing that I lack'd it. But, on, Caesar;
    The article of my oath.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    To lend me arms and aid when I required them;
    The which you both denied.

MARK ANTONY    Neglected, rather;
    And then when poison'd hours had bound me up
    From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may,
    I'll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty
    Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power
    Work without it. Truth is, that Fulvia,
    To have me out of Egypt, made wars here;
    For which myself, the ignorant motive, do
    So far ask pardon as befits mine honour
    To stoop in such a case.

LEPIDUS    'Tis noble spoken.

MECAENAS    If it might please you, to enforce no further
    The griefs between ye: to forget them quite
    Were to remember that the present need
    Speaks to atone you.

LEPIDUS    Worthily spoken, Mecaenas.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Or, if you borrow one another's love for the
    instant, you may, when you hear no more words of
    Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to
    wrangle in when you have nothing else to do.

MARK ANTONY    Thou art a soldier only: speak no more.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    That truth should be silent I had almost forgot.

MARK ANTONY    You wrong this presence; therefore speak no more.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Go to, then; your considerate stone.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    I do not much dislike the matter, but
    The manner of his speech; for't cannot be
    We shall remain in friendship, our conditions
    So differing in their acts. Yet if I knew
    What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge
    O' the world I would pursue it.

AGRIPPA    Give me leave, Caesar,--

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Speak, Agrippa.

AGRIPPA    Thou hast a sister by the mother's side,
    Admired Octavia: great Mark Antony
    Is now a widower.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR                      Say not so, Agrippa:
    If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
    Were well deserved of rashness.

MARK ANTONY    I am not married, Caesar: let me hear
    Agrippa further speak.

AGRIPPA    To hold you in perpetual amity,
    To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
    With an unslipping knot, take Antony
    Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims
    No worse a husband than the best of men;
    Whose virtue and whose general graces speak
    That which none else can utter. By this marriage,
    All little jealousies, which now seem great,
    And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
    Would then be nothing: truths would be tales,
    Where now half tales be truths: her love to both
    Would, each to other and all loves to both,
    Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke;
    For 'tis a studied, not a present thought,
    By duty ruminated.

MARK ANTONY                      Will Caesar speak?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd
    With what is spoke already.

MARK ANTONY    What power is in Agrippa,
    If I would say, 'Agrippa, be it so,'
    To make this good?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR                      The power of Caesar, and
    His power unto Octavia.

MARK ANTONY    May I never
    To this good purpose, that so fairly shows,
    Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand:
    Further this act of grace: and from this hour
    The heart of brothers govern in our loves
    And sway our great designs!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    There is my hand.
    A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother
    Did ever love so dearly: let her live
    To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never
    Fly off our loves again!

LEPIDUS    Happily, amen!

MARK ANTONY    I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey;
    For he hath laid strange courtesies and great
    Of late upon me: I must thank him only,
    Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;
    At heel of that, defy him.

LEPIDUS    Time calls upon's:
    Of us must Pompey presently be sought,
    Or else he seeks out us.

MARK ANTONY    Where lies he?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    About the mount Misenum.

MARK ANTONY    What is his strength by land?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Great and increasing: but by sea
    He is an absolute master.

MARK ANTONY    So is the fame.
    Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it:
    Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we
    The business we have talk'd of.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    With most gladness:
    And do invite you to my sister's view,
    Whither straight I'll lead you.

MARK ANTONY    Let us, Lepidus,
    Not lack your company.

LEPIDUS    Noble Antony,
    Not sickness should detain me.

    [Flourish. Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY,
    and LEPIDUS]

MECAENAS    Welcome from Egypt, sir.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecaenas! My
    honourable friend, Agrippa!

AGRIPPA    Good Enobarbus!

MECAENAS    We have cause to be glad that matters are so well
    digested. You stayed well by 't in Egypt.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and
    made the night light with drinking.

MECAENAS    Eight wild-boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and
    but twelve persons there; is this true?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more
    monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting.

MECAENAS    She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to
    her.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up
    his heart, upon the river of Cydnus.

AGRIPPA    There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised
    well for her.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I will tell you.
    The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
    Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
    Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
    The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
    Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
    The water which they beat to follow faster,
    As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
    It beggar'd all description: she did lie
    In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue--
    O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
    The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
    Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
    With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
    To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
    And what they undid did.

AGRIPPA    O, rare for Antony!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
    So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
    And made their bends adornings: at the helm
    A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle
    Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
    That yarely frame the office. From the barge
    A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
    Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
    Her people out upon her; and Antony,
    Enthroned i' the market-place, did sit alone,
    Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
    Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
    And made a gap in nature.

AGRIPPA    Rare Egyptian!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
    Invited her to supper: she replied,
    It should be better he became her guest;
    Which she entreated: our courteous Antony,
    Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak,
    Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast,
    And for his ordinary pays his heart
    For what his eyes eat only.

AGRIPPA    Royal wench!
    She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed:
    He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I saw her once
    Hop forty paces through the public street;
    And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
    That she did make defect perfection,
    And, breathless, power breathe forth.

MECAENAS    Now Antony must leave her utterly.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Never; he will not:
    Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
    Her infinite variety: other women cloy
    The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
    Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
    Become themselves in her: that the holy priests
    Bless her when she is riggish.

MECAENAS    If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
    The heart of Antony, Octavia is
    A blessed lottery to him.

AGRIPPA    Let us go.
    Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest
    Whilst you abide here.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Humbly, sir, I thank you.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE III    The same. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY, OCTAVIUS CAESAR, OCTAVIA between
    them, and Attendants]

MARK ANTONY    The world and my great office will sometimes
    Divide me from your bosom.

OCTAVIA    All which time
    Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers
    To them for you.

MARK ANTONY                      Good night, sir. My Octavia,
    Read not my blemishes in the world's report:
    I have not kept my square; but that to come
    Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear lady.
    Good night, sir.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Good night.

    [Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR and OCTAVIA]

    [Enter Soothsayer]

MARK ANTONY    Now, sirrah; you do wish yourself in Egypt?

Soothsayer    Would I had never come from thence, nor you Thither!

MARK ANTONY    If you can, your reason?

Soothsayer    I see it in
    My motion, have it not in my tongue: but yet
    Hie you to Egypt again.

MARK ANTONY    Say to me,
    Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's or mine?

Soothsayer    Caesar's.
    Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:
    Thy demon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is
    Noble, courageous high, unmatchable,
    Where Caesar's is not; but, near him, thy angel
    Becomes a fear, as being o'erpower'd: therefore
    Make space enough between you.

MARK ANTONY    Speak this no more.

Soothsayer    To none but thee; no more, but when to thee.
    If thou dost play with him at any game,
    Thou art sure to lose; and, of that natural luck,
    He beats thee 'gainst the odds: thy lustre thickens,
    When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit
    Is all afraid to govern thee near him;
    But, he away, 'tis noble.

MARK ANTONY    Get thee gone:
    Say to Ventidius I would speak with him:

    [Exit Soothsayer]

    He shall to Parthia. Be it art or hap,
    He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him;
    And in our sports my better cunning faints
    Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds;
    His cocks do win the battle still of mine,
    When it is all to nought; and his quails ever
    Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt:
    And though I make this marriage for my peace,
    I' the east my pleasure lies.

    [Enter VENTIDIUS]

                O, come, Ventidius,
    You must to Parthia: your commission's ready;
    Follow me, and receive't.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE IV    The same. A street.


    [Enter LEPIDUS, MECAENAS, and AGRIPPA]

LEPIDUS    Trouble yourselves no further: pray you, hasten
    Your generals after.

AGRIPPA    Sir, Mark Antony
    Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.

LEPIDUS    Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress,
    Which will become you both, farewell.

MECAENAS    We shall,
    As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount
    Before you, Lepidus.

LEPIDUS    Your way is shorter;
    My purposes do draw me much about:
    You'll win two days upon me.


MECAENAS    |
    |    Sir, good success!
AGRIPPA    |


LEPIDUS    Farewell.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE V    Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

CLEOPATRA    Give me some music; music, moody food
    Of us that trade in love.

Attendants    The music, ho!

    [Enter MARDIAN]

CLEOPATRA    Let it alone; let's to billiards: come, Charmian.

CHARMIAN    My arm is sore; best play with Mardian.

CLEOPATRA    As well a woman with an eunuch play'd
    As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir?

MARDIAN    As well as I can, madam.

CLEOPATRA    And when good will is show'd, though't come
    too short,
    The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:
    Give me mine angle; we'll to the river: there,
    My music playing far off, I will betray
    Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce
    Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
    I'll think them every one an Antony,
    And say 'Ah, ha! you're caught.'

CHARMIAN    'Twas merry when
    You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
    Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he
    With fervency drew up.

CLEOPATRA    That time,--O times!--
    I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
    I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn,
    Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
    Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
    I wore his sword Philippan.

    [Enter a Messenger]

              O, from Italy
    Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
    That long time have been barren.

Messenger    Madam, madam,--

CLEOPATRA    Antonius dead!--If thou say so, villain,
    Thou kill'st thy mistress: but well and free,
    If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
    My bluest veins to kiss; a hand that kings
    Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

Messenger    First, madam, he is well.

CLEOPATRA    Why, there's more gold.
    But, sirrah, mark, we use
    To say the dead are well: bring it to that,
    The gold I give thee will I melt and pour
    Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Messenger    Good madam, hear me.

CLEOPATRA    Well, go to, I will;
    But there's no goodness in thy face: if Antony
    Be free and healthful,--so tart a favour
    To trumpet such good tidings! If not well,
    Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes,
    Not like a formal man.

Messenger    Will't please you hear me?

CLEOPATRA    I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st:
    Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well,
    Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him,
    I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
    Rich pearls upon thee.

Messenger    Madam, he's well.

CLEOPATRA    Well said.

Messenger    And friends with Caesar.

CLEOPATRA    Thou'rt an honest man.

Messenger    Caesar and he are greater friends than ever.

CLEOPATRA    Make thee a fortune from me.

Messenger    But yet, madam,--

CLEOPATRA    I do not like 'But yet,' it does allay
    The good precedence; fie upon 'But yet'!
    'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth
    Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend,
    Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
    The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar:
    In state of health thou say'st; and thou say'st free.

Messenger    Free, madam! no; I made no such report:
    He's bound unto Octavia.

CLEOPATRA    For what good turn?

Messenger    For the best turn i' the bed.

CLEOPATRA    I am pale, Charmian.

Messenger    Madam, he's married to Octavia.

CLEOPATRA    The most infectious pestilence upon thee!

    [Strikes him down]

Messenger    Good madam, patience.

CLEOPATRA    What say you? Hence,

    [Strikes him again]

    Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
    Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:

    [She hales him up and down]

    Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine,
    Smarting in lingering pickle.

Messenger    Gracious madam,
    I that do bring the news made not the match.

CLEOPATRA    Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
    And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadst
    Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage;
    And I will boot thee with what gift beside
    Thy modesty can beg.

Messenger    He's married, madam.

CLEOPATRA    Rogue, thou hast lived too long.

    [Draws a knife]

Messenger    Nay, then I'll run.
    What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.

    [Exit]

CHARMIAN    Good madam, keep yourself within yourself:
    The man is innocent.

CLEOPATRA    Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.
    Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
    Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again:
    Though I am mad, I will not bite him: call.

CHARMIAN    He is afeard to come.

CLEOPATRA    I will not hurt him.

    [Exit CHARMIAN]

    These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
    A meaner than myself; since I myself
    Have given myself the cause.

    [Re-enter CHARMIAN and Messenger]

               Come hither, sir.
    Though it be honest, it is never good
    To bring bad news: give to a gracious message.
    An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
    Themselves when they be felt.

Messenger    I have done my duty.

CLEOPATRA    Is he married?
    I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
    If thou again say 'Yes.'

Messenger    He's married, madam.

CLEOPATRA    The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still?

Messenger    Should I lie, madam?

CLEOPATRA    O, I would thou didst,
    So half my Egypt were submerged and made
    A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence:
    Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
    Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married?

Messenger    I crave your highness' pardon.

CLEOPATRA    He is married?

Messenger    Take no offence that I would not offend you:
    To punish me for what you make me do.
    Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia.

CLEOPATRA    O, that his fault should make a knave of thee,
    That art not what thou'rt sure of! Get thee hence:
    The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome
    Are all too dear for me: lie they upon thy hand,
    And be undone by 'em!

    [Exit Messenger]

CHARMIAN    Good your highness, patience.

CLEOPATRA    In praising Antony, I have dispraised Caesar.

CHARMIAN    Many times, madam.

CLEOPATRA                      I am paid for't now.
    Lead me from hence:
    I faint: O Iras, Charmian! 'tis no matter.
    Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
    Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
    Her inclination, let him not leave out
    The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly.

    [Exit ALEXAS]

    Let him for ever go:--let him not--Charmian,
    Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
    The other way's a Mars. Bid you Alexas

    [To MARDIAN]

    Bring me word how tall she is. Pity me, Charmian,
    But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II



SCENE VI    Near Misenum.


    [Flourish. Enter POMPEY and MENAS at one door,
    with drum and trumpet: at another, OCTAVIUS CAESAR,
    MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, MECAENAS,
    with Soldiers marching]

POMPEY    Your hostages I have, so have you mine;
    And we shall talk before we fight.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Most meet
    That first we come to words; and therefore have we
    Our written purposes before us sent;
    Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know
    If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword,
    And carry back to Sicily much tall youth
    That else must perish here.

POMPEY    To you all three,
    The senators alone of this great world,
    Chief factors for the gods, I do not know
    Wherefore my father should revengers want,
    Having a son and friends; since Julius Caesar,
    Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,
    There saw you labouring for him. What was't
    That moved pale Cassius to conspire; and what
    Made the all-honour'd, honest Roman, Brutus,
    With the arm'd rest, courtiers and beauteous freedom,
    To drench the Capitol; but that they would
    Have one man but a man? And that is it
    Hath made me rig my navy; at whose burthen
    The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant
    To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome
    Cast on my noble father.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Take your time.

MARK ANTONY    Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails;
    We'll speak with thee at sea: at land, thou know'st
    How much we do o'er-count thee.

POMPEY    At land, indeed,
    Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house:
    But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself,
    Remain in't as thou mayst.

LEPIDUS    Be pleased to tell us--
    For this is from the present--how you take
    The offers we have sent you.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    There's the point.

MARK ANTONY    Which do not be entreated to, but weigh
    What it is worth embraced.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    And what may follow,
    To try a larger fortune.

POMPEY    You have made me offer
    Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must
    Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send
    Measures of wheat to Rome; this 'greed upon
    To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back
    Our targes undinted.


OCTAVIUS CAESAR    |
    |
MARK ANTONY    |  That's our offer.
    |
LEPIDUS    |


POMPEY    Know, then,
    I came before you here a man prepared
    To take this offer: but Mark Antony
    Put me to some impatience: though I lose
    The praise of it by telling, you must know,
    When Caesar and your brother were at blows,
    Your mother came to Sicily and did find
    Her welcome friendly.

MARK ANTONY    I have heard it, Pompey;
    And am well studied for a liberal thanks
    Which I do owe you.

POMPEY    Let me have your hand:
    I did not think, sir, to have met you here.

MARK ANTONY    The beds i' the east are soft; and thanks to you,
    That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither;
    For I have gain'd by 't.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Since I saw you last,
    There is a change upon you.

POMPEY    Well, I know not
    What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face;
    But in my bosom shall she never come,
    To make my heart her vassal.

LEPIDUS    Well met here.

POMPEY    I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed:
    I crave our composition may be written,
    And seal'd between us.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    That's the next to do.

POMPEY    We'll feast each other ere we part; and let's
    Draw lots who shall begin.

MARK ANTONY    That will I, Pompey.

POMPEY    No, Antony, take the lot: but, first
    Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
    Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar
    Grew fat with feasting there.

MARK ANTONY    You have heard much.

POMPEY    I have fair meanings, sir.

MARK ANTONY    And fair words to them.

POMPEY    Then so much have I heard:
    And I have heard, Apollodorus carried--

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    No more of that: he did so.

POMPEY    What, I pray you?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    A certain queen to Caesar in a mattress.

POMPEY    I know thee now: how farest thou, soldier?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Well;
    And well am like to do; for, I perceive,
    Four feasts are toward.

POMPEY    Let me shake thy hand;
    I never hated thee: I have seen thee fight,
    When I have envied thy behavior.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Sir,
    I never loved you much; but I ha' praised ye,
    When you have well deserved ten times as much
    As I have said you did.

POMPEY    Enjoy thy plainness,
    It nothing ill becomes thee.
    Aboard my galley I invite you all:
    Will you lead, lords?


OCTAVIUS CAESAR    |
    |
MARK ANTONY    |  Show us the way, sir.
    |
LEPIDUS    |


POMPEY    Come.

    [Exeunt all but MENAS and ENOBARBUS]

MENAS    [Aside]  Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have
    made this treaty.--You and I have known, sir.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    At sea, I think.

MENAS    We have, sir.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    You have done well by water.

MENAS    And you by land.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I will praise any man that will praise me; though it
    cannot be denied what I have done by land.

MENAS    Nor what I have done by water.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Yes, something you can deny for your own
    safety: you have been a great thief by sea.

MENAS    And you by land.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    There I deny my land service. But give me your
    hand, Menas: if our eyes had authority, here they
    might take two thieves kissing.

MENAS    All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    But there is never a fair woman has a true face.

MENAS    No slander; they steal hearts.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    We came hither to fight with you.

MENAS    For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking.
    Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    If he do, sure, he cannot weep't back again.

MENAS    You've said, sir. We looked not for Mark Antony
    here: pray you, is he married to Cleopatra?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Caesar's sister is called Octavia.

MENAS    True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius.

MENAS    Pray ye, sir?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    'Tis true.

MENAS    Then is Caesar and he for ever knit together.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would
    not prophesy so.

MENAS    I think the policy of that purpose made more in the
    marriage than the love of the parties.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I think so too. But you shall find, the band that
    seems to tie their friendship together will be the
    very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a
    holy, cold, and still conversation.

MENAS    Who would not have his wife so?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Not he that himself is not so; which is Mark Antony.
    He will to his Egyptian dish again: then shall the
    sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar; and, as
    I said before, that which is the strength of their
    amity shall prove the immediate author of their
    variance. Antony will use his affection where it is:
    he married but his occasion here.

MENAS    And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you aboard?
    I have a health for you.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I shall take it, sir: we have used our throats in Egypt.

MENAS    Come, let's away.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT II


SCENE VII    On board POMPEY's galley, off Misenum.


    [Music plays. Enter two or three Servants with
    a banquet]

First Servant    Here they'll be, man. Some o' their plants are
    ill-rooted already: the least wind i' the world
    will blow them down.

Second Servant    Lepidus is high-coloured.

First Servant    They have made him drink alms-drink.

Second Servant    As they pinch one another by the disposition, he
    cries out 'No more;' reconciles them to his
    entreaty, and himself to the drink.

First Servant    But it raises the greater war between him and
    his discretion.

Second Servant    Why, this is to have a name in great men's
    fellowship: I had as lief have a reed that will do
    me no service as a partisan I could not heave.

First Servant    To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be seen
    to move in't, are the holes where eyes should be,
    which pitifully disaster the cheeks.

    [A sennet sounded. Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK
    ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POMPEY, AGRIPPA, MECAENAS,
    DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, MENAS, with other captains]

MARK ANTONY    [To OCTAVIUS CAESAR]  Thus do they, sir: they take
    the flow o' the Nile
    By certain scales i' the pyramid; they know,
    By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth
    Or foison follow: the higher Nilus swells,
    The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman
    Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain,
    And shortly comes to harvest.

LEPIDUS    You've strange serpents there.

MARK ANTONY    Ay, Lepidus.

LEPIDUS    Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the
    operation of your sun: so is your crocodile.

MARK ANTONY    They are so.

POMPEY    Sit,--and some wine! A health to Lepidus!

LEPIDUS    I am not so well as I should be, but I'll ne'er out.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Not till you have slept; I fear me you'll be in till then.

LEPIDUS    Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies'
    pyramises are very goodly things; without
    contradiction, I have heard that.

MENAS    [Aside to POMPEY]  Pompey, a word.

POMPEY    [Aside to MENAS]                 Say in mine ear:
    what is't?

MENAS    [Aside to POMPEY]  Forsake thy seat, I do beseech
    thee, captain,
    And hear me speak a word.

POMPEY    [Aside to MENAS]  Forbear me till anon.
    This wine for Lepidus!

LEPIDUS    What manner o' thing is your crocodile?

MARK ANTONY    It is shaped, sir, like itself; and it is as broad
    as it hath breadth: it is just so high as it is,
    and moves with its own organs: it lives by that
    which nourisheth it; and the elements once out of
    it, it transmigrates.

LEPIDUS    What colour is it of?

MARK ANTONY    Of it own colour too.

LEPIDUS    'Tis a strange serpent.

MARK ANTONY    'Tis so. And the tears of it are wet.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Will this description satisfy him?

MARK ANTONY    With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a
    very epicure.

POMPEY    [Aside to MENAS]  Go hang, sir, hang! Tell me of
    that? away!
    Do as I bid you. Where's this cup I call'd for?

MENAS    [Aside to POMPEY]  If for the sake of merit thou
    wilt hear me,
    Rise from thy stool.

POMPEY    [Aside to MENAS]  I think thou'rt mad.
    The matter?

    [Rises, and walks aside]

MENAS    I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.

POMPEY    Thou hast served me with much faith. What's else to say?
    Be jolly, lords.

MARK ANTONY                      These quick-sands, Lepidus,
    Keep off them, for you sink.

MENAS    Wilt thou be lord of all the world?

POMPEY    What say'st thou?

MENAS    Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice.

POMPEY    How should that be?

MENAS    But entertain it,
    And, though thou think me poor, I am the man
    Will give thee all the world.

POMPEY    Hast thou drunk well?

MENAS    Now, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup.
    Thou art, if thou darest be, the earthly Jove:
    Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips,
    Is thine, if thou wilt ha't.

POMPEY    Show me which way.

MENAS    These three world-sharers, these competitors,
    Are in thy vessel: let me cut the cable;
    And, when we are put off, fall to their throats:
    All there is thine.

POMPEY    Ah, this thou shouldst have done,
    And not have spoke on't! In me 'tis villany;
    In thee't had been good service. Thou must know,
    'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour;
    Mine honour, it. Repent that e'er thy tongue
    Hath so betray'd thine act: being done unknown,
    I should have found it afterwards well done;
    But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.

MENAS    [Aside]  For this,
    I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more.
    Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd,
    Shall never find it more.

POMPEY    This health to Lepidus!

MARK ANTONY    Bear him ashore. I'll pledge it for him, Pompey.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Here's to thee, Menas!

MENAS    Enobarbus, welcome!

POMPEY    Fill till the cup be hid.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    There's a strong fellow, Menas.

    [Pointing to the Attendant who carries off LEPIDUS]

MENAS    Why?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    A' bears the third part of the world, man; see'st
    not?

MENAS    The third part, then, is drunk: would it were all,
    That it might go on wheels!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Drink thou; increase the reels.

MENAS    Come.

POMPEY    This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.

MARK ANTONY    It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho?
    Here is to Caesar!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR                      I could well forbear't.
    It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain,
    And it grows fouler.

MARK ANTONY    Be a child o' the time.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Possess it, I'll make answer:
    But I had rather fast from all four days
    Than drink so much in one.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Ha, my brave emperor!

    [To MARK ANTONY]

    Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals,
    And celebrate our drink?

POMPEY    Let's ha't, good soldier.

MARK ANTONY    Come, let's all take hands,
    Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense
    In soft and delicate Lethe.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    All take hands.
    Make battery to our ears with the loud music:
    The while I'll place you: then the boy shall sing;
    The holding every man shall bear as loud
    As his strong sides can volley.

    [Music plays. DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS places them
    hand in hand]
    THE SONG.

    Come, thou monarch of the vine,
    Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!
    In thy fats our cares be drown'd,
    With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd:
    Cup us, till the world go round,
    Cup us, till the world go round!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    What would you more? Pompey, good night. Good brother,
    Let me request you off: our graver business
    Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, let's part;
    You see we have burnt our cheeks: strong Enobarb
    Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue
    Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost
    Antick'd us all. What needs more words? Good night.
    Good Antony, your hand.

POMPEY    I'll try you on the shore.

MARK ANTONY    And shall, sir; give's your hand.

POMPEY    O Antony,
    You have my father's house,--But, what? we are friends.
    Come, down into the boat.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Take heed you fall not.

    [Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and MENAS]

    Menas, I'll not on shore.

MENAS    No, to my cabin.
    These drums! these trumpets, flutes! what!
    Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell
    To these great fellows: sound and be hang'd, sound out!

    [Sound a flourish, with drums]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Ho! says a' There's my cap.

MENAS    Ho! Noble captain, come.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE I    A plain in Syria.


    [Enter VENTIDIUS as it were in triumph, with SILIUS,
    and other Romans, Officers, and Soldiers; the dead
    body of PACORUS borne before him]

VENTIDIUS    Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and now
    Pleased fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death
    Make me revenger. Bear the king's son's body
    Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes,
    Pays this for Marcus Crassus.

SILIUS    Noble Ventidius,
    Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
    The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media,
    Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither
    The routed fly: so thy grand captain Antony
    Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and
    Put garlands on thy head.

VENTIDIUS    O Silius, Silius,
    I have done enough; a lower place, note well,
    May make too great an act: for learn this, Silius;
    Better to leave undone, than by our deed
    Acquire too high a fame when him we serve's away.
    Caesar and Antony have ever won
    More in their officer than person: Sossius,
    One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,
    For quick accumulation of renown,
    Which he achieved by the minute, lost his favour.
    Who does i' the wars more than his captain can
    Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition,
    The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss,
    Than gain which darkens him.
    I could do more to do Antonius good,
    But 'twould offend him; and in his offence
    Should my performance perish.

SILIUS    Thou hast, Ventidius,
    that
    Without the which a soldier, and his sword,
    Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony!

VENTIDIUS    I'll humbly signify what in his name,
    That magical word of war, we have effected;
    How, with his banners and his well-paid ranks,
    The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia
    We have jaded out o' the field.

SILIUS    Where is he now?

VENTIDIUS    He purposeth to Athens: whither, with what haste
    The weight we must convey with's will permit,
    We shall appear before him. On there; pass along!

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE II    Rome. An ante-chamber in OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house.


    [Enter AGRIPPA at one door, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS
    at another]

AGRIPPA    What, are the brothers parted?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    They have dispatch'd with Pompey, he is gone;
    The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps
    To part from Rome; Caesar is sad; and Lepidus,
    Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled
    With the green sickness.

AGRIPPA    'Tis a noble Lepidus.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    A very fine one: O, how he loves Caesar!

AGRIPPA    Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Caesar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men.

AGRIPPA    What's Antony? The god of Jupiter.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Spake you of Caesar? How! the non-pareil!

AGRIPPA    O Antony! O thou Arabian bird!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Would you praise Caesar, say 'Caesar:' go no further.

AGRIPPA    Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    But he loves Caesar best; yet he loves Antony:
    Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards,
    poets, cannot
    Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho!
    His love to Antony. But as for Caesar,
    Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.

AGRIPPA    Both he loves.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    They are his shards, and he their beetle.

    [Trumpets within]
            So;
    This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa.

AGRIPPA    Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell.

    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA]

MARK ANTONY    No further, sir.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    You take from me a great part of myself;
    Use me well in 't. Sister, prove such a wife
    As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest band
    Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony,
    Let not the piece of virtue, which is set
    Betwixt us as the cement of our love,
    To keep it builded, be the ram to batter
    The fortress of it; for better might we
    Have loved without this mean, if on both parts
    This be not cherish'd.

MARK ANTONY    Make me not offended
    In your distrust.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR                      I have said.

MARK ANTONY    You shall not find,
    Though you be therein curious, the least cause
    For what you seem to fear: so, the gods keep you,
    And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends!
    We will here part.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well:
    The elements be kind to thee, and make
    Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well.

OCTAVIA    My noble brother!

MARK ANTONY    The April 's in her eyes: it is love's spring,
    And these the showers to bring it on. Be cheerful.

OCTAVIA    Sir, look well to my husband's house; and--

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    What, Octavia?

OCTAVIA           I'll tell you in your ear.

MARK ANTONY    Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
    Her heart inform her tongue,--the swan's
    down-feather,
    That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
    And neither way inclines.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside to AGRIPPA]  Will Caesar weep?

AGRIPPA    [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]  He has a cloud in 's face.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside to AGRIPPA]  He were the worse for that,
    were he a horse;
    So is he, being a man.

AGRIPPA    [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]  Why, Enobarbus,
    When Antony found Julius Caesar dead,
    He cried almost to roaring; and he wept
    When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside to AGRIPPA]  That year, indeed, he was
    troubled with a rheum;
    What willingly he did confound he wail'd,
    Believe't, till I wept too.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    No, sweet Octavia,
    You shall hear from me still; the time shall not
    Out-go my thinking on you.

MARK ANTONY    Come, sir, come;
    I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love:
    Look, here I have you; thus I let you go,
    And give you to the gods.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Adieu; be happy!

LEPIDUS    Let all the number of the stars give light
    To thy fair way!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Farewell, farewell!

    [Kisses OCTAVIA]

MARK ANTONY    Farewell!

    [Trumpets sound. Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE III    Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

CLEOPATRA    Where is the fellow?

ALEXAS    Half afeard to come.

CLEOPATRA    Go to, go to.

    [Enter the Messenger as before]

    Come hither, sir.

ALEXAS    Good majesty,
    Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you
    But when you are well pleased.

CLEOPATRA    That Herod's head
    I'll have: but how, when Antony is gone
    Through whom I might command it? Come thou near.

Messenger    Most gracious majesty,--

CLEOPATRA    Didst thou behold Octavia?

Messenger    Ay, dread queen.

CLEOPATRA    Where?

Messenger    Madam, in Rome;
    I look'd her in the face, and saw her led
    Between her brother and Mark Antony.

CLEOPATRA    Is she as tall as me?

Messenger    She is not, madam.

CLEOPATRA    Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongued or low?

Messenger    Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced.

CLEOPATRA    That's not so good: he cannot like her long.

CHARMIAN    Like her! O Isis! 'tis impossible.

CLEOPATRA    I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish!
    What majesty is in her gait? Remember,
    If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.

Messenger    She creeps:
    Her motion and her station are as one;
    She shows a body rather than a life,
    A statue than a breather.

CLEOPATRA    Is this certain?

Messenger    Or I have no observance.

CHARMIAN    Three in Egypt
    Cannot make better note.

CLEOPATRA    He's very knowing;
    I do perceive't: there's nothing in her yet:
    The fellow has good judgment.

CHARMIAN    Excellent.

CLEOPATRA    Guess at her years, I prithee.

Messenger    Madam,
    She was a widow,--

CLEOPATRA                      Widow! Charmian, hark.

Messenger    And I do think she's thirty.

CLEOPATRA    Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?

Messenger    Round even to faultiness.

CLEOPATRA    For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so.
    Her hair, what colour?

Messenger    Brown, madam: and her forehead
    As low as she would wish it.

CLEOPATRA    There's gold for thee.
    Thou must not take my former sharpness ill:
    I will employ thee back again; I find thee
    Most fit for business: go make thee ready;
    Our letters are prepared.

    [Exit Messenger]

CHARMIAN    A proper man.

CLEOPATRA    Indeed, he is so: I repent me much
    That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him,
    This creature's no such thing.

CHARMIAN    Nothing, madam.

CLEOPATRA    The man hath seen some majesty, and should know.

CHARMIAN    Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend,
    And serving you so long!

CLEOPATRA    I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian:
    But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me
    Where I will write. All may be well enough.

CHARMIAN    I warrant you, madam.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III


SCENE IV    Athens. A room in MARK ANTONY's house.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY and OCTAVIA]

MARK ANTONY    Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that,--
    That were excusable, that, and thousands more
    Of semblable import,--but he hath waged
    New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it
    To public ear:
    Spoke scantly of me: when perforce he could not
    But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly
    He vented them; most narrow measure lent me:
    When the best hint was given him, he not took't,
    Or did it from his teeth.

OCTAVIA    O my good lord,
    Believe not all; or, if you must believe,
    Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady,
    If this division chance, ne'er stood between,
    Praying for both parts:
    The good gods me presently,
    When I shall pray, 'O bless my lord and husband!'
    Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud,
    'O, bless my brother!' Husband win, win brother,
    Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway
    'Twixt these extremes at all.

MARK ANTONY    Gentle Octavia,
    Let your best love draw to that point, which seeks
    Best to preserve it: if I lose mine honour,
    I lose myself: better I were not yours
    Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested,
    Yourself shall go between 's: the mean time, lady,
    I'll raise the preparation of a war
    Shall stain your brother: make your soonest haste;
    So your desires are yours.

OCTAVIA    Thanks to my lord.
    The Jove of power make me most weak, most weak,
    Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be
    As if the world should cleave, and that slain men
    Should solder up the rift.

MARK ANTONY    When it appears to you where this begins,
    Turn your displeasure that way: for our faults
    Can never be so equal, that your love
    Can equally move with them. Provide your going;
    Choose your own company, and command what cost
    Your heart has mind to.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE V    The same. Another room.


    [Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and EROS, meeting]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    How now, friend Eros!

EROS    There's strange news come, sir.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    What, man?

EROS    Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    This is old: what is the success?

EROS    Caesar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst
    Pompey, presently denied him rivality; would not let
    him partake in the glory of the action: and not
    resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly
    wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him: so
    the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no more;
    And throw between them all the food thou hast,
    They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony?

EROS    He's walking in the garden--thus; and spurns
    The rush that lies before him; cries, 'Fool Lepidus!'
    And threats the throat of that his officer
    That murder'd Pompey.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Our great navy's rigg'd.

EROS    For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius;
    My lord desires you presently: my news
    I might have told hereafter.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    'Twill be naught:
    But let it be. Bring me to Antony.

EROS    Come, sir.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE VI    Rome. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house.


    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MECAENAS]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Contemning Rome, he has done all this, and more,
    In Alexandria: here's the manner of 't:
    I' the market-place, on a tribunal silver'd,
    Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold
    Were publicly enthroned: at the feet sat
    Caesarion, whom they call my father's son,
    And all the unlawful issue that their lust
    Since then hath made between them. Unto her
    He gave the stablishment of Egypt; made her
    Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia,
    Absolute queen.

MECAENAS                      This in the public eye?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    I' the common show-place, where they exercise.
    His sons he there proclaim'd the kings of kings:
    Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia.
    He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd
    Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia: she
    In the habiliments of the goddess Isis
    That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience,
    As 'tis reported, so.

MECAENAS    Let Rome be thus Inform'd.

AGRIPPA    Who, queasy with his insolence
    Already, will their good thoughts call from him.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    The people know it; and have now received
    His accusations.

AGRIPPA                      Who does he accuse?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Caesar: and that, having in Sicily
    Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him
    His part o' the isle: then does he say, he lent me
    Some shipping unrestored: lastly, he frets
    That Lepidus of the triumvirate
    Should be deposed; and, being, that we detain
    All his revenue.

AGRIPPA                      Sir, this should be answer'd.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    'Tis done already, and the messenger gone.
    I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel;
    That he his high authority abused,
    And did deserve his change: for what I have conquer'd,
    I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia,
    And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, I
    Demand the like.

MECAENAS                      He'll never yield to that.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Nor must not then be yielded to in this.

    [Enter OCTAVIA with her train]

OCTAVIA    Hail, Caesar, and my lord! hail, most dear Caesar!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    That ever I should call thee castaway!

OCTAVIA    You have not call'd me so, nor have you cause.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Why have you stol'n upon us thus! You come not
    Like Caesar's sister: the wife of Antony
    Should have an army for an usher, and
    The neighs of horse to tell of her approach
    Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way
    Should have borne men; and expectation fainted,
    Longing for what it had not; nay, the dust
    Should have ascended to the roof of heaven,
    Raised by your populous troops: but you are come
    A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented
    The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown,
    Is often left unloved; we should have met you
    By sea and land; supplying every stage
    With an augmented greeting.

OCTAVIA    Good my lord,
    To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did
    On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony,
    Hearing that you prepared for war, acquainted
    My grieved ear withal; whereon, I begg'd
    His pardon for return.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Which soon he granted,
    Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and him.

OCTAVIA    Do not say so, my lord.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    I have eyes upon him,
    And his affairs come to me on the wind.
    Where is he now?

OCTAVIA                      My lord, in Athens.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    No, my most wronged sister; Cleopatra
    Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire
    Up to a whore; who now are levying
    The kings o' the earth for war; he hath assembled
    Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus,
    Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king
    Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas;
    King Malchus of Arabia; King of Pont;
    Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king
    Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas,
    The kings of Mede and Lycaonia,
    With a more larger list of sceptres.

OCTAVIA    Ay me, most wretched,
    That have my heart parted betwixt two friends
    That do afflict each other!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Welcome hither:
    Your letters did withhold our breaking forth;
    Till we perceived, both how you were wrong led,
    And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart;
    Be you not troubled with the time, which drives
    O'er your content these strong necessities;
    But let determined things to destiny
    Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome;
    Nothing more dear to me. You are abused
    Beyond the mark of thought: and the high gods,
    To do you justice, make them ministers
    Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort;
    And ever welcome to us.

AGRIPPA    Welcome, lady.

MECAENAS    Welcome, dear madam.
    Each heart in Rome does love and pity you:
    Only the adulterous Antony, most large
    In his abominations, turns you off;
    And gives his potent regiment to a trull,
    That noises it against us.

OCTAVIA    Is it so, sir?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Most certain. Sister, welcome: pray you,
    Be ever known to patience: my dear'st sister!

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE VII    Near Actium. MARK ANTONY's camp.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

CLEOPATRA    I will be even with thee, doubt it not.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    But why, why, why?

CLEOPATRA    Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars,
    And say'st it is not fit.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Well, is it, is it?

CLEOPATRA    If not denounced against us, why should not we
    Be there in person?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside]  Well, I could reply:
    If we should serve with horse and mares together,
    The horse were merely lost; the mares would bear
    A soldier and his horse.

CLEOPATRA    What is't you say?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Your presence needs must puzzle Antony;
    Take from his heart, take from his brain,
    from's time,
    What should not then be spared. He is already
    Traduced for levity; and 'tis said in Rome
    That Photinus an eunuch and your maids
    Manage this war.

CLEOPATRA                      Sink Rome, and their tongues rot
    That speak against us! A charge we bear i' the war,
    And, as the president of my kingdom, will
    Appear there for a man. Speak not against it:
    I will not stay behind.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Nay, I have done.
    Here comes the emperor.

    [Enter MARK ANTONY and CANIDIUS]

MARK ANTONY    Is it not strange, Canidius,
    That from Tarentum and Brundusium
    He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea,
    And take in Toryne? You have heard on't, sweet?

CLEOPATRA    Celerity is never more admired
    Than by the negligent.

MARK ANTONY    A good rebuke,
    Which might have well becomed the best of men,
    To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we
    Will fight with him by sea.

CLEOPATRA    By sea! what else?

CANIDIUS    Why will my lord do so?

MARK ANTONY    For that he dares us to't.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    So hath my lord dared him to single fight.

CANIDIUS    Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia.
    Where Caesar fought with Pompey: but these offers,
    Which serve not for his vantage, be shakes off;
    And so should you.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS                      Your ships are not well mann'd;
    Your mariners are muleters, reapers, people
    Ingross'd by swift impress; in Caesar's fleet
    Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought:
    Their ships are yare; yours, heavy: no disgrace
    Shall fall you for refusing him at sea,
    Being prepared for land.

MARK ANTONY    By sea, by sea.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Most worthy sir, you therein throw away
    The absolute soldiership you have by land;
    Distract your army, which doth most consist
    Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted
    Your own renowned knowledge; quite forego
    The way which promises assurance; and
    Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard,
    From firm security.

MARK ANTONY    I'll fight at sea.

CLEOPATRA    I have sixty sails, Caesar none better.

MARK ANTONY    Our overplus of shipping will we burn;
    And, with the rest full-mann'd, from the head of Actium
    Beat the approaching Caesar. But if we fail,
    We then can do't at land.

    [Enter a Messenger]

            Thy business?

Messenger    The news is true, my lord; he is descried;
    Caesar has taken Toryne.

MARK ANTONY    Can he be there in person? 'tis impossible;
    Strange that power should be. Canidius,
    Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land,
    And our twelve thousand horse. We'll to our ship:
    Away, my Thetis!

    [Enter a Soldier]

    How now, worthy soldier?

Soldier    O noble emperor, do not fight by sea;
    Trust not to rotten planks: do you misdoubt
    This sword and these my wounds? Let the Egyptians
    And the Phoenicians go a-ducking; we
    Have used to conquer, standing on the earth,
    And fighting foot to foot.

MARK ANTONY    Well, well: away!

    [Exeunt MARK ANTONY, QUEEN CLEOPATRA, and DOMITIUS
    ENOBARBUS]

Soldier    By Hercules, I think I am i' the right.

CANIDIUS    Soldier, thou art: but his whole action grows
    Not in the power on't: so our leader's led,
    And we are women's men.

Soldier    You keep by land
    The legions and the horse whole, do you not?

CANIDIUS    Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius,
    Publicola, and Caelius, are for sea:
    But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's
    Carries beyond belief.

Soldier    While he was yet in Rome,
    His power went out in such distractions as
    Beguiled all spies.

CANIDIUS    Who's his lieutenant, hear you?

Soldier    They say, one Taurus.

CANIDIUS    Well I know the man.

    [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger    The emperor calls Canidius.

CANIDIUS    With news the time's with labour, and throes forth,
    Each minute, some.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE VIII    A plain near Actium.


    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, and TAURUS, with his army, marching]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Taurus!

TAURUS    My lord?

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Strike not by land; keep whole: provoke not battle,
    Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed
    The prescript of this scroll: our fortune lies
    Upon this jump.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE IX    Another part of the plain.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

MARK ANTONY    Set we our squadrons on yond side o' the hill,
    In eye of Caesar's battle; from which place
    We may the number of the ships behold,
    And so proceed accordingly.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III


SCENE X    Another part of the plain.


    [CANIDIUS marcheth with his land army one way over
    the stage; and TAURUS, the lieutenant of OCTAVIUS
    CAESAR, the other way. After their going in, is
    heard the noise of a sea-fight]

    [Alarum. Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Naught, naught all, naught! I can behold no longer:
    The Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral,
    With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder:
    To see't mine eyes are blasted.

    [Enter SCARUS]

SCARUS    Gods and goddesses,
    All the whole synod of them!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    What's thy passion!

SCARUS    The greater cantle of the world is lost
    With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away
    Kingdoms and provinces.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    How appears the fight?

SCARUS    On our side like the token'd pestilence,
    Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt,--
    Whom leprosy o'ertake!--i' the midst o' the fight,
    When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd,
    Both as the same, or rather ours the elder,
    The breese upon her, like a cow in June,
    Hoists sails and flies.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    That I beheld:
    Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not
    Endure a further view.

SCARUS    She once being loof'd,
    The noble ruin of her magic, Antony,
    Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard,
    Leaving the fight in height, flies after her:
    I never saw an action of such shame;
    Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
    Did violate so itself.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Alack, alack!

    [Enter CANIDIUS]

CANIDIUS    Our fortune on the sea is out of breath,
    And sinks most lamentably. Had our general
    Been what he knew himself, it had gone well:
    O, he has given example for our flight,
    Most grossly, by his own!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Ay, are you thereabouts?
    Why, then, good night indeed.

CANIDIUS    Toward Peloponnesus are they fled.

SCARUS    'Tis easy to't; and there I will attend
    What further comes.

CANIDIUS    To Caesar will I render
    My legions and my horse: six kings already
    Show me the way of yielding.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I'll yet follow
    The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason
    Sits in the wind against me.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE XI    Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY with Attendants]

MARK ANTONY    Hark! the land bids me tread no more upon't;
    It is ashamed to bear me! Friends, come hither:
    I am so lated in the world, that I
    Have lost my way for ever: I have a ship
    Laden with gold; take that, divide it; fly,
    And make your peace with Caesar.

All    Fly! not we.

MARK ANTONY    I have fled myself; and have instructed cowards
    To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone;
    I have myself resolved upon a course
    Which has no need of you; be gone:
    My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O,
    I follow'd that I blush to look upon:
    My very hairs do mutiny; for the white
    Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them
    For fear and doting. Friends, be gone: you shall
    Have letters from me to some friends that will
    Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad,
    Nor make replies of loathness: take the hint
    Which my despair proclaims; let that be left
    Which leaves itself: to the sea-side straightway:
    I will possess you of that ship and treasure.
    Leave me, I pray, a little: pray you now:
    Nay, do so; for, indeed, I have lost command,
    Therefore I pray you: I'll see you by and by.

    [Sits down]

    [Enter CLEOPATRA led by CHARMIAN and IRAS; EROS
    following]

EROS    Nay, gentle madam, to him, comfort him.

IRAS    Do, most dear queen.

CHARMIAN    Do! why: what else?

CLEOPATRA    Let me sit down. O Juno!

MARK ANTONY    No, no, no, no, no.

EROS    See you here, sir?

MARK ANTONY    O fie, fie, fie!

CHARMIAN    Madam!

IRAS    Madam, O good empress!

EROS    Sir, sir,--

MARK ANTONY    Yes, my lord, yes; he at Philippi kept
    His sword e'en like a dancer; while I struck
    The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I
    That the mad Brutus ended: he alone
    Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practise had
    In the brave squares of war: yet now--No matter.

CLEOPATRA    Ah, stand by.

EROS    The queen, my lord, the queen.

IRAS    Go to him, madam, speak to him:
    He is unqualitied with very shame.

CLEOPATRA    Well then, sustain him: O!

EROS    Most noble sir, arise; the queen approaches:
    Her head's declined, and death will seize her, but
    Your comfort makes the rescue.

MARK ANTONY    I have offended reputation,
    A most unnoble swerving.

EROS    Sir, the queen.

MARK ANTONY    O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See,
    How I convey my shame out of thine eyes
    By looking back what I have left behind
    'Stroy'd in dishonour.

CLEOPATRA    O my lord, my lord,
    Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
    You would have follow'd.

MARK ANTONY    Egypt, thou knew'st too well
    My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings,
    And thou shouldst tow me after: o'er my spirit
    Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that
    Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods
    Command me.

CLEOPATRA              O, my pardon!

MARK ANTONY    Now I must
    To the young man send humble treaties, dodge
    And palter in the shifts of lowness; who
    With half the bulk o' the world play'd as I pleased,
    Making and marring fortunes. You did know
    How much you were my conqueror; and that
    My sword, made weak by my affection, would
    Obey it on all cause.

CLEOPATRA    Pardon, pardon!

MARK ANTONY    Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates
    All that is won and lost: give me a kiss;
    Even this repays me. We sent our schoolmaster;
    Is he come back? Love, I am full of lead.
    Some wine, within there, and our viands! Fortune knows
    We scorn her most when most she offers blows.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE XII    Egypt. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, DOLABELLA, THYREUS, with others]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Let him appear that's come from Antony.
    Know you him?

DOLABELLA                      Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster:
    An argument that he is pluck'd, when hither
    He sends so poor a pinion off his wing,
    Which had superfluous kings for messengers
    Not many moons gone by.

    [Enter EUPHRONIUS, ambassador from MARK ANTONY]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Approach, and speak.

EUPHRONIUS    Such as I am, I come from Antony:
    I was of late as petty to his ends
    As is the morn-dew on the myrtle-leaf
    To his grand sea.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR                      Be't so: declare thine office.

EUPHRONIUS    Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and
    Requires to live in Egypt: which not granted,
    He lessens his requests; and to thee sues
    To let him breathe between the heavens and earth,
    A private man in Athens: this for him.
    Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness;
    Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves
    The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs,
    Now hazarded to thy grace.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    For Antony,
    I have no ears to his request. The queen
    Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she
    From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend,
    Or take his life there: this if she perform,
    She shall not sue unheard. So to them both.

EUPHRONIUS    Fortune pursue thee!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Bring him through the bands.

    [Exit EUPHRONIUS]

    [To THYREUS]  To try eloquence, now 'tis time: dispatch;
    From Antony win Cleopatra: promise,
    And in our name, what she requires; add more,
    From thine invention, offers: women are not
    In their best fortunes strong; but want will perjure
    The ne'er touch'd vestal: try thy cunning, Thyreus;
    Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we
    Will answer as a law.

THYREUS    Caesar, I go.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Observe how Antony becomes his flaw,
    And what thou think'st his very action speaks
    In every power that moves.

THYREUS    Caesar, I shall.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT III



SCENE XIII    Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS]

CLEOPATRA    What shall we do, Enobarbus?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Think, and die.

CLEOPATRA    Is Antony or we in fault for this?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Antony only, that would make his will
    Lord of his reason. What though you fled
    From that great face of war, whose several ranges
    Frighted each other? why should he follow?
    The itch of his affection should not then
    Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point,
    When half to half the world opposed, he being
    The meered question: 'twas a shame no less
    Than was his loss, to course your flying flags,
    And leave his navy gazing.

CLEOPATRA    Prithee, peace.

    [Enter MARK ANTONY with EUPHRONIUS, the Ambassador]

MARK ANTONY    Is that his answer?

EUPHRONIUS    Ay, my lord.

MARK ANTONY    The queen shall then have courtesy, so she
    Will yield us up.

EUPHRONIUS                      He says so.

MARK ANTONY    Let her know't.
    To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head,
    And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
    With principalities.

CLEOPATRA    That head, my lord?

MARK ANTONY    To him again: tell him he wears the rose
    Of youth upon him; from which the world should note
    Something particular: his coin, ships, legions,
    May be a coward's; whose ministers would prevail
    Under the service of a child as soon
    As i' the command of Caesar: I dare him therefore
    To lay his gay comparisons apart,
    And answer me declined, sword against sword,
    Ourselves alone. I'll write it: follow me.

    [Exeunt MARK ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside]  Yes, like enough, high-battled Caesar will
    Unstate his happiness, and be staged to the show,
    Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are
    A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
    Do draw the inward quality after them,
    To suffer all alike. That he should dream,
    Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will
    Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdued
    His judgment too.

    [Enter an Attendant]

Attendant                      A messenger from CAESAR.

CLEOPATRA    What, no more ceremony? See, my women!
    Against the blown rose may they stop their nose
    That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir.

    [Exit Attendant]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside]  Mine honesty and I begin to square.
    The loyalty well held to fools does make
    Our faith mere folly: yet he that can endure
    To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord
    Does conquer him that did his master conquer
    And earns a place i' the story.

    [Enter THYREUS]

CLEOPATRA    Caesar's will?

THYREUS    Hear it apart.

CLEOPATRA                      None but friends: say boldly.

THYREUS    So, haply, are they friends to Antony.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has;
    Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master
    Will leap to be his friend: for us, you know,
    Whose he is we are, and that is, Caesar's.

THYREUS    So.
    Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats,
    Not to consider in what case thou stand'st,
    Further than he is Caesar.

CLEOPATRA    Go on: right royal.

THYREUS    He knows that you embrace not Antony
    As you did love, but as you fear'd him.

CLEOPATRA    O!

THYREUS    The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
    Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
    Not as deserved.

CLEOPATRA                      He is a god, and knows
    What is most right: mine honour was not yielded,
    But conquer'd merely.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside]             To be sure of that,
    I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky,
    That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
    Thy dearest quit thee.

    [Exit]

THYREUS    Shall I say to Caesar
    What you require of him? for he partly begs
    To be desired to give. It much would please him,
    That of his fortunes you should make a staff
    To lean upon: but it would warm his spirits,
    To hear from me you had left Antony,
    And put yourself under his shrowd,
    The universal landlord.

CLEOPATRA    What's your name?

THYREUS    My name is Thyreus.

CLEOPATRA    Most kind messenger,
    Say to great Caesar this: in deputation
    I kiss his conquering hand: tell him, I am prompt
    To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel:
    Tell him from his all-obeying breath I hear
    The doom of Egypt.

THYREUS    'Tis your noblest course.
    Wisdom and fortune combating together,
    If that the former dare but what it can,
    No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
    My duty on your hand.

CLEOPATRA    Your Caesar's father oft,
    When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in,
    Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
    As it rain'd kisses.

    [Re-enter MARK ANTONY and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

MARK ANTONY    Favours, by Jove that thunders!
    What art thou, fellow?

THYREUS    One that but performs
    The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest
    To have command obey'd.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside]               You will be whipp'd.

MARK ANTONY    Approach, there! Ah, you kite! Now, gods
    and devils!
    Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried 'Ho!'
    Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth,
    And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am
    Antony yet.

    [Enter Attendants]

    Take hence this Jack, and whip him.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside]  'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp
    Than with an old one dying.

MARK ANTONY    Moon and stars!
    Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries
    That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them
    So saucy with the hand of she here,--what's her name,
    Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows,
    Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face,
    And whine aloud for mercy: take him hence.

THYREUS    Mark Antony!


MARK ANTONY                      Tug him away: being whipp'd,
    Bring him again: this Jack of Caesar's shall
    Bear us an errand to him.

    [Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS]

    You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha!
    Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
    Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
    And by a gem of women, to be abused
    By one that looks on feeders?

CLEOPATRA    Good my lord,--

MARK ANTONY    You have been a boggler ever:
    But when we in our viciousness grow hard--
    O misery on't!--the wise gods seel our eyes;
    In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
    Adore our errors; laugh at's, while we strut
    To our confusion.

CLEOPATRA                      O, is't come to this?

MARK ANTONY    I found you as a morsel cold upon
    Dead Caesar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment
    Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,
    Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have
    Luxuriously pick'd out: for, I am sure,
    Though you can guess what temperance should be,
    You know not what it is.

CLEOPATRA    Wherefore is this?

MARK ANTONY    To let a fellow that will take rewards
    And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with
    My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal
    And plighter of high hearts! O, that I were
    Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar
    The horned herd! for I have savage cause;
    And to proclaim it civilly, were like
    A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank
    For being yare about him.

    [Re-enter Attendants with THYREUS]

            Is he whipp'd?

First Attendant    Soundly, my lord.

MARK ANTONY                      Cried he? and begg'd a' pardon?

First Attendant    He did ask favour.

MARK ANTONY    If that thy father live, let him repent
    Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry
    To follow Caesar in his triumph, since
    Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth
    The white hand of a lady fever thee,
    Shake thou to look on 't. Get thee back to Caesar,
    Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou say
    He makes me angry with him; for he seems
    Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,
    Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry;
    And at this time most easy 'tis to do't,
    When my good stars, that were my former guides,
    Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
    Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike
    My speech and what is done, tell him he has
    Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom
    He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
    As he shall like, to quit me: urge it thou:
    Hence with thy stripes, begone!

    [Exit THYREUS]

CLEOPATRA    Have you done yet?

MARK ANTONY                      Alack, our terrene moon
    Is now eclipsed; and it portends alone
    The fall of Antony!

CLEOPATRA    I must stay his time.

MARK ANTONY    To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes
    With one that ties his points?

CLEOPATRA    Not know me yet?

MARK ANTONY    Cold-hearted toward me?

CLEOPATRA    Ah, dear, if I be so,
    From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
    And poison it in the source; and the first stone
    Drop in my neck: as it determines, so
    Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite!
    Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
    Together with my brave Egyptians all,
    By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
    Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile
    Have buried them for prey!

MARK ANTONY    I am satisfied.
    Caesar sits down in Alexandria; where
    I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
    Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too
    Have knit again, and fleet, threatening most sea-like.
    Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady?
    If from the field I shall return once more
    To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
    I and my sword will earn our chronicle:
    There's hope in't yet.

CLEOPATRA    That's my brave lord!

MARK ANTONY    I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breathed,
    And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
    Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives
    Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth,
    And send to darkness all that stop me. Come,
    Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
    All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more;
    Let's mock the midnight bell.

CLEOPATRA    It is my birth-day:
    I had thought to have held it poor: but, since my lord
    Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

MARK ANTONY    We will yet do well.

CLEOPATRA    Call all his noble captains to my lord.

MARK ANTONY    Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force
    The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen;
    There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight,
    I'll make death love me; for I will contend
    Even with his pestilent scythe.

    [Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious,
    Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood
    The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still,
    A diminution in our captain's brain
    Restores his heart: when valour preys on reason,
    It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
    Some way to leave him.

    [Exit]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE I    Before Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MECAENAS, with
    his Army; OCTAVIUS CAESAR reading a letter]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    He calls me boy; and chides, as he had power
    To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger
    He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal combat,
    Caesar to Antony: let the old ruffian know
    I have many other ways to die; meantime
    Laugh at his challenge.

MECAENAS    Caesar must think,
    When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
    Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
    Make boot of his distraction: never anger
    Made good guard for itself.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Let our best heads
    Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles
    We mean to fight: within our files there are,
    Of those that served Mark Antony but late,
    Enough to fetch him in. See it done:
    And feast the army; we have store to do't,
    And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony!

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE II    Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS,
    CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, with others]

MARK ANTONY    He will not fight with me, Domitius.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    No.

MARK ANTONY    Why should he not?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,
    He is twenty men to one.

MARK ANTONY    To-morrow, soldier,
    By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live,
    Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
    Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I'll strike, and cry 'Take all.'

MARK ANTONY    Well said; come on.
    Call forth my household servants: let's to-night
    Be bounteous at our meal.

    [Enter three or four Servitors]

            Give me thy hand,
    Thou hast been rightly honest;--so hast thou;--
    Thou,--and thou,--and thou:--you have served me well,
    And kings have been your fellows.

CLEOPATRA    [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]  What means this?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside to CLEOPATRA]  'Tis one of those odd
    tricks which sorrow shoots
    Out of the mind.

MARK ANTONY                      And thou art honest too.
    I wish I could be made so many men,
    And all of you clapp'd up together in
    An Antony, that I might do you service
    So good as you have done.

All    The gods forbid!

MARK ANTONY    Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night:
    Scant not my cups; and make as much of me
    As when mine empire was your fellow too,
    And suffer'd my command.

CLEOPATRA    [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]  What does he mean?

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    [Aside to CLEOPATRA]  To make his followers weep.

MARK ANTONY    Tend me to-night;
    May be it is the period of your duty:
    Haply you shall not see me more; or if,
    A mangled shadow: perchance to-morrow
    You'll serve another master. I look on you
    As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
    I turn you not away; but, like a master
    Married to your good service, stay till death:
    Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
    And the gods yield you for't!

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    What mean you, sir,
    To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep;
    And I, an ass, am onion-eyed: for shame,
    Transform us not to women.

MARK ANTONY    Ho, ho, ho!
    Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus!
    Grace grow where those drops fall!
    My hearty friends,
    You take me in too dolorous a sense;
    For I spake to you for your comfort; did desire you
    To burn this night with torches: know, my hearts,
    I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you
    Where rather I'll expect victorious life
    Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come,
    And drown consideration.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE III    The same. Before the palace.


    [Enter two Soldiers to their guard]

First Soldier    Brother, good night: to-morrow is the day.

Second Soldier    It will determine one way: fare you well.
    Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?

First Soldier    Nothing. What news?

Second Soldier    Belike 'tis but a rumour. Good night to you.

First Soldier    Well, sir, good night.

    [Enter two other Soldiers]

Second Soldier    Soldiers, have careful watch.

Third Soldier    And you. Good night, good night.

    [They place themselves in every corner of the stage]

Fourth Soldier    Here we: and if to-morrow
    Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope
    Our landmen will stand up.

Third Soldier    'Tis a brave army,
    And full of purpose.

    [Music of the hautboys as under the stage]

Fourth Soldier    Peace! what noise?

First Soldier    List, list!

Second Soldier    Hark!

First Soldier        Music i' the air.

Third Soldier    Under the earth.

Fourth Soldier    It signs well, does it not?

Third Soldier    No.

First Soldier    Peace, I say!
    What should this mean?

Second Soldier    'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony loved,
    Now leaves him.

First Soldier    Walk; let's see if other watchmen
    Do hear what we do?

    [They advance to another post]

Second Soldier    How now, masters!

All    [Speaking together]  How now!
    How now! do you hear this?

First Soldier    Ay; is't not strange?

Third Soldier    Do you hear, masters? do you hear?

First Soldier    Follow the noise so far as we have quarter;
    Let's see how it will give off.

All    Content. 'Tis strange.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE IV    The same. A room in the palace.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and
    others attending]

MARK ANTONY    Eros! mine armour, Eros!

CLEOPATRA    Sleep a little.

MARK ANTONY    No, my chuck. Eros, come; mine armour, Eros!

    [Enter EROS with armour]

    Come good fellow, put mine iron on:
    If fortune be not ours to-day, it is
    Because we brave her: come.

CLEOPATRA    Nay, I'll help too.
    What's this for?

MARK ANTONY                      Ah, let be, let be! thou art
    The armourer of my heart: false, false; this, this.

CLEOPATRA    Sooth, la, I'll help: thus it must be.

MARK ANTONY    Well, well;
    We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow?
    Go put on thy defences.

EROS    Briefly, sir.

CLEOPATRA    Is not this buckled well?

MARK ANTONY    Rarely, rarely:
    He that unbuckles this, till we do please
    To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.
    Thou fumblest, Eros; and my queen's a squire
    More tight at this than thou: dispatch. O love,
    That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st
    The royal occupation! thou shouldst see
    A workman in't.

    [Enter an armed Soldier]

    Good morrow to thee; welcome:
    Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge:
    To business that we love we rise betime,
    And go to't with delight.

Soldier    A thousand, sir,
    Early though't be, have on their riveted trim,
    And at the port expect you.

    [Shout. Trumpets flourish]

    [Enter Captains and Soldiers]

Captain    The morn is fair. Good morrow, general.

All    Good morrow, general.

MARK ANTONY    'Tis well blown, lads:
    This morning, like the spirit of a youth
    That means to be of note, begins betimes.
    So, so; come, give me that: this way; well said.
    Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me:
    This is a soldier's kiss: rebukeable

    [Kisses her]

    And worthy shameful cheque it were, to stand
    On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee
    Now, like a man of steel. You that will fight,
    Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. Adieu.

    [Exeunt MARK ANTONY, EROS, Captains, and Soldiers]

CHARMIAN    Please you, retire to your chamber.

CLEOPATRA    Lead me.
    He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might
    Determine this great war in single fight!
    Then Antony,--but now--Well, on.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE V    Alexandria. MARK ANTONY's camp.


    [Trumpets sound. Enter MARK ANTONY and EROS; a
    Soldier meeting them]

Soldier    The gods make this a happy day to Antony!

MARK ANTONY    Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd
    To make me fight at land!

Soldier    Hadst thou done so,
    The kings that have revolted, and the soldier
    That has this morning left thee, would have still
    Follow'd thy heels.

MARK ANTONY    Who's gone this morning?

Soldier    Who!
    One ever near thee: call for Enobarbus,
    He shall not hear thee; or from Caesar's camp
    Say 'I am none of thine.'

MARK ANTONY    What say'st thou?

Soldier    Sir,
    He is with Caesar.

EROS                      Sir, his chests and treasure
    He has not with him.

MARK ANTONY    Is he gone?

Soldier    Most certain.

MARK ANTONY    Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it;
    Detain no jot, I charge thee: write to him--
    I will subscribe--gentle adieus and greetings;
    Say that I wish he never find more cause
    To change a master. O, my fortunes have
    Corrupted honest men! Dispatch.--Enobarbus!

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE VI    Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


    [Flourish. Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, with
    DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, and others]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight:
    Our will is Antony be took alive;
    Make it so known.

AGRIPPA    Caesar, I shall.

    [Exit]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    The time of universal peace is near:
    Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world
    Shall bear the olive freely.

    [Enter a Messenger]

Messenger    Antony
    Is come into the field.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Go charge Agrippa
    Plant those that have revolted in the van,
    That Antony may seem to spend his fury
    Upon himself.

    [Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Alexas did revolt; and went to Jewry on
    Affairs of Antony; there did persuade
    Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar,
    And leave his master Antony: for this pains
    Caesar hath hang'd him. Canidius and the rest
    That fell away have entertainment, but
    No honourable trust. I have done ill;
    Of which I do accuse myself so sorely,
    That I will joy no more.

    [Enter a Soldier of CAESAR's]

Soldier    Enobarbus, Antony
    Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with
    His bounty overplus: the messenger
    Came on my guard; and at thy tent is now
    Unloading of his mules.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I give it you.

Soldier    Mock not, Enobarbus.
    I tell you true: best you safed the bringer
    Out of the host; I must attend mine office,
    Or would have done't myself. Your emperor
    Continues still a Jove.

    [Exit]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    I am alone the villain of the earth,
    And feel I am so most. O Antony,
    Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid
    My better service, when my turpitude
    Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart:
    If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean
    Shall outstrike thought: but thought will do't, I feel.
    I fight against thee! No: I will go seek
    Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits
    My latter part of life.

    [Exit]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE VII    Field of battle between the camps.


    [Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter AGRIPPA
    and others]

AGRIPPA    Retire, we have engaged ourselves too far:
    Caesar himself has work, and our oppression
    Exceeds what we expected.

    [Exeunt]

    [Alarums. Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS wounded]

SCARUS    O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed!
    Had we done so at first, we had droven them home
    With clouts about their heads.

MARK ANTONY    Thou bleed'st apace.

SCARUS    I had a wound here that was like a T,
    But now 'tis made an H.

MARK ANTONY    They do retire.

SCARUS    We'll beat 'em into bench-holes: I have yet
    Room for six scotches more.

    [Enter EROS]

EROS    They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves
    For a fair victory.

SCARUS    Let us score their backs,
    And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind:
    'Tis sport to maul a runner.

MARK ANTONY    I will reward thee
    Once for thy spritely comfort, and ten-fold
    For thy good valour. Come thee on.

SCARUS    I'll halt after.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE VIII    Under the walls of Alexandria.


    [Alarum. Enter MARK ANTONY, in a march; SCARUS,
    with others]

MARK ANTONY    We have beat him to his camp: run one before,
    And let the queen know of our gests. To-morrow,
    Before the sun shall see 's, we'll spill the blood
    That has to-day escaped. I thank you all;
    For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
    Not as you served the cause, but as 't had been
    Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors.
    Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,
    Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears
    Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss
    The honour'd gashes whole.

    [To SCARUS]

            Give me thy hand

    [Enter CLEOPATRA, attended]

    To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts,
    Make her thanks bless thee.

    [To CLEOPATRA]

              O thou day o' the world,
    Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all,
    Through proof of harness to my heart, and there
    Ride on the pants triumphing!

CLEOPATRA    Lord of lords!
    O infinite virtue, comest thou smiling from
    The world's great snare uncaught?

MARK ANTONY    My nightingale,
    We have beat them to their beds. What, girl!
    though grey
    Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we
    A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
    Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man;
    Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand:
    Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day
    As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
    Destroy'd in such a shape.

CLEOPATRA    I'll give thee, friend,
    An armour all of gold; it was a king's.

MARK ANTONY    He has deserved it, were it carbuncled
    Like holy Phoebus' car. Give me thy hand:
    Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
    Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them:
    Had our great palace the capacity
    To camp this host, we all would sup together,
    And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
    Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters,
    With brazen din blast you the city's ear;
    Make mingle with rattling tabourines;
    That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together,
    Applauding our approach.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE IX    OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


    [Sentinels at their post]

First Soldier    If we be not relieved within this hour,
    We must return to the court of guard: the night
    Is shiny; and they say we shall embattle
    By the second hour i' the morn.

Second Soldier    This last day was
    A shrewd one to's.

    [Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS                      O, bear me witness, night,--

Third Soldier    What man is this?

Second Soldier                      Stand close, and list him.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,
    When men revolted shall upon record
    Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did
    Before thy face repent!

First Soldier    Enobarbus!

Third Soldier    Peace!
    Hark further.

DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS    O sovereign mistress of true melancholy,
    The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me,
    That life, a very rebel to my will,
    May hang no longer on me: throw my heart
    Against the flint and hardness of my fault:
    Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,
    And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony,
    Nobler than my revolt is infamous,
    Forgive me in thine own particular;
    But let the world rank me in register
    A master-leaver and a fugitive:
    O Antony! O Antony!

    [Dies]

Second Soldier    Let's speak To him.

First Soldier    Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
    May concern Caesar.

Third Soldier    Let's do so. But he sleeps.

First Soldier    Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
    Was never yet for sleep.

Second Soldier    Go we to him.

Third Soldier    Awake, sir, awake; speak to us.

Second Soldier    Hear you, sir?

First Soldier    The hand of death hath raught him.

    [Drums afar off]

                          Hark! the drums
    Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him
    To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour
    Is fully out.

Third Soldier    Come on, then;
    He may recover yet.

    [Exeunt with the body]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE X    Between the two camps.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS, with their Army]

MARK ANTONY    Their preparation is to-day by sea;
    We please them not by land.

SCARUS    For both, my lord.

MARK ANTONY    I would they'ld fight i' the fire or i' the air;
    We'ld fight there too. But this it is; our foot
    Upon the hills adjoining to the city
    Shall stay with us: order for sea is given;
    They have put forth the haven [           ]
    Where their appointment we may best discover,
    And look on their endeavour.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV


SCENE XI    Another part of the same.


    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, and his Army]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    But being charged, we will be still by land,
    Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force
    Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales,
    And hold our best advantage.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV


SCENE XII    Another part of the same.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS]

MARK ANTONY    Yet they are not join'd: where yond pine
    does stand,
    I shall discover all: I'll bring thee word
    Straight, how 'tis like to go.

    [Exit]

SCARUS    Swallows have built
    In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers
    Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,
    And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
    Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,
    His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear,
    Of what he has, and has not.

    [Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight]

    [Re-enter MARK ANTONY]

MARK ANTONY    All is lost;
    This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
    My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder
    They cast their caps up and carouse together
    Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore!
    'tis thou
    Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart
    Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;
    For when I am revenged upon my charm,
    I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone.

    [Exit SCARUS]

    O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
    Fortune and Antony part here; even here
    Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
    That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
    Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
    On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd,
    That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am:
    O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,--
    Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home;
    Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,--
    Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,
    Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.
    What, Eros, Eros!

    [Enter CLEOPATRA]

    Ah, thou spell! Avaunt!

CLEOPATRA    Why is my lord enraged against his love?

MARK ANTONY    Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving,
    And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee,
    And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians:
    Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
    Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown
    For poor'st diminutives, for doits; and let
    Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
    With her prepared nails.

    [Exit CLEOPATRA]

        'Tis well thou'rt gone,
    If it be well to live; but better 'twere
    Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death
    Might have prevented many. Eros, ho!
    The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me,
    Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:
    Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' the moon;
    And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest club,
    Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die:
    To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
    Under this plot; she dies for't. Eros, ho!

    [Exit]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV


SCENE XIII    Alexandria. Cleopatra's palace.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN]

CLEOPATRA    Help me, my women! O, he is more mad
    Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
    Was never so emboss'd.

CHARMIAN    To the monument!
    There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.
    The soul and body rive not more in parting
    Than greatness going off.

CLEOPATRA    To the monument!
    Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
    Say, that the last I spoke was 'Antony,'
    And word it, prithee, piteously: hence, Mardian,
    And bring me how he takes my death.
    To the monument!

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE XIV    The same. Another room.


    [Enter MARK ANTONY and EROS]

MARK ANTONY    Eros, thou yet behold'st me?

EROS    Ay, noble lord.

MARK ANTONY    Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish;
    A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
    A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
    A forked mountain, or blue promontory
    With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
    And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen
    these signs;
    They are black vesper's pageants.

EROS    Ay, my lord,

MARK ANTONY    That which is now a horse, even with a thought
    The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,
    As water is in water.

EROS    It does, my lord.

MARK ANTONY    My good knave Eros, now thy captain is
    Even such a body: here I am Antony:
    Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
    I made these wars for Egypt: and the queen,--
    Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine;
    Which whilst it was mine had annex'd unto't
    A million more, now lost,--she, Eros, has
    Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory
    Unto an enemy's triumph.
    Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
    Ourselves to end ourselves.

    [Enter MARDIAN]

              O! thy vile lady!
    She has robb'd me of my sword.

MARDIAN    No, Antony;
    My mistress loved thee, and her fortunes mingled
    With thine entirely.

MARK ANTONY    Hence, saucy eunuch; peace!
    She hath betray'd me and shall die the death.

MARDIAN    Death of one person can be paid but once,
    And that she has discharged: what thou wouldst do
    Is done unto thy hand: the last she spake
    Was 'Antony! most noble Antony!'
    Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
    The name of Antony; it was divided
    Between her heart and lips: she render'd life,
    Thy name so buried in her.

MARK ANTONY    Dead, then?

MARDIAN    Dead.

MARK ANTONY    Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done,
    And we must sleep.

    [To MARDIAN]

    That thou depart'st hence safe,
    Does pay thy labour richly; go.

    [Exit MARDIAN]

                 Off, pluck off:
    The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep
    The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides!
    Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,
    Crack thy frail case! Apace, Eros, apace.
    No more a soldier: bruised pieces, go;
    You have been nobly borne. From me awhile.

    [Exit EROS]

    I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
    Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
    All length is torture: since the torch is out,
    Lie down, and stray no farther: now all labour
    Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles
    Itself with strength: seal then, and all is done.
    Eros!--I come, my queen:--Eros!--Stay for me:
    Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
    And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze:
    Dido and her AEneas shall want troops,
    And all the haunt be ours. Come, Eros, Eros!

    [Re-enter EROS]

EROS    What would my lord?

MARK ANTONY    Since Cleopatra died,
    I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods
    Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
    Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
    With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
    The courage of a woman; less noble mind
    Than she which by her death our Caesar tells
    'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros,
    That, when the exigent should come, which now
    Is come indeed, when I should see behind me
    The inevitable prosecution of
    Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,
    Thou then wouldst kill me: do't; the time is come:
    Thou strikest not me, 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st.
    Put colour in thy cheek.

EROS    The gods withhold me!
    Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
    Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?

MARK ANTONY    Eros,
    Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see
    Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down
    His corrigible neck, his face subdued
    To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat
    Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded
    His baseness that ensued?

EROS    I would not see't.

MARK ANTONY    Come, then; for with a wound I must be cured.
    Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
    Most useful for thy country.

EROS    O, sir, pardon me!

MARK ANTONY    When I did make thee free, sworest thou not then
    To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once;
    Or thy precedent services are all
    But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come.

EROS    Turn from me, then, that noble countenance,
    Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.

MARK ANTONY    Lo thee!

    [Turning from him]

EROS    My sword is drawn.

MARK ANTONY                      Then let it do at once
    The thing why thou hast drawn it.

EROS    My dear master,
    My captain, and my emperor, let me say,
    Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.

MARK ANTONY    'Tis said, man; and farewell.

EROS    Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?

MARK ANTONY    Now, Eros.

EROS    Why, there then: thus I do escape the sorrow
    Of Antony's death.

    [Kills himself]

MARK ANTONY                      Thrice-nobler than myself!
    Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what
    I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros
    Have by their brave instruction got upon me
    A nobleness in record: but I will be
    A bridegroom in my death, and run into't
    As to a lover's bed. Come, then; and, Eros,
    Thy master dies thy scholar: to do thus

    [Falling on his sword]

    I learn'd of thee. How! not dead? not dead?
    The guard, ho! O, dispatch me!

    [Enter DERCETAS and Guard]

First Guard    What's the noise?

MARK ANTONY    I have done my work in, friends: O, make an end
    Of what I have begun.

Second Guard    The star is fall'n.

First Guard    And time is at his period.

All    Alas, and woe!

MARK ANTONY    Let him that loves me strike me dead.

First Guard    Not I.

Second Guard    Nor I.

Third Guard    Nor any one.

    [Exeunt Guard]

DERCETAS    Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.
    This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings,
    Shall enter me with him.

    [Enter DIOMEDES]

DIOMEDES    Where's Antony?

DERCETAS                      There, Diomed there.

DIOMEDES    Lives he?
    Wilt thou not answer, man?

    [Exit DERCETAS]

MARK ANTONY    Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me
    Sufficing strokes for death.

DIOMEDES    Most absolute lord,
    My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.

MARK ANTONY    When did she send thee?

DIOMEDES    Now, my lord.

MARK ANTONY    Where is she?

DIOMEDES    Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear
    Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw--
    Which never shall be found--you did suspect
    She had disposed with Caesar, and that your rage
    Would not be purged, she sent you word she was dead;
    But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent
    Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,
    I dread, too late.

MARK ANTONY    Too late, good Diomed: call my guard, I prithee.

DIOMEDES    What, ho, the emperor's guard! The guard, what, ho!
    Come, your lord calls!

    [Enter four or five of the Guard of MARK ANTONY]

MARK ANTONY    Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;
    'Tis the last service that I shall command you.

First Guard    Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear
    All your true followers out.

All    Most heavy day!

MARK ANTONY    Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate
    To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome
    Which comes to punish us, and we punish it
    Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up:
    I have led you oft: carry me now, good friends,
    And have my thanks for all.

    [Exeunt, bearing MARK ANTONY]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT IV



SCENE XV    The same. A monument.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with
    CHARMIAN and IRAS]

CLEOPATRA    O Charmian, I will never go from hence.

CHARMIAN    Be comforted, dear madam.

CLEOPATRA    No, I will not:
    All strange and terrible events are welcome,
    But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,
    Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great
    As that which makes it.

    [Enter, below, DIOMEDES]

          How now! is he dead?

DIOMEDES    His death's upon him, but not dead.
    Look out o' the other side your monument;
    His guard have brought him thither.

    [Enter, below, MARK ANTONY, borne by the Guard]

CLEOPATRA    O sun,
    Burn the great sphere thou movest in!
    darkling stand
    The varying shore o' the world. O Antony,
    Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help;
    Help, friends below; let's draw him hither.

MARK ANTONY    Peace!
    Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
    But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

CLEOPATRA    So it should be, that none but Antony
    Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!

MARK ANTONY    I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
    I here importune death awhile, until
    Of many thousand kisses the poor last
    I lay up thy lips.

CLEOPATRA                      I dare not, dear,--
    Dear my lord, pardon,--I dare not,
    Lest I be taken: not the imperious show
    Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall
    Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs,
    serpents, have
    Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:
    Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes
    And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour
    Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,--
    Help me, my women,--we must draw thee up:
    Assist, good friends.

MARK ANTONY    O, quick, or I am gone.

CLEOPATRA    Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord!
    Our strength is all gone into heaviness,
    That makes the weight: had I great Juno's power,
    The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
    And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,--
    Wishes were ever fools,--O, come, come, come;

    [They heave MARK ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA]

    And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived:
    Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,
    Thus would I wear them out.

All    A heavy sight!

MARK ANTONY    I am dying, Egypt, dying:
    Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.

CLEOPATRA    No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,
    That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel,
    Provoked by my offence.

MARK ANTONY    One word, sweet queen:
    Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O!

CLEOPATRA    They do not go together.

MARK ANTONY    Gentle, hear me:
    None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.

CLEOPATRA    My resolution and my hands I'll trust;
    None about Caesar.

MARK ANTONY    The miserable change now at my end
    Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts
    In feeding them with those my former fortunes
    Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o' the world,
    The noblest; and do now not basely die,
    Not cowardly put off my helmet to
    My countryman,--a Roman by a Roman
    Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going;
    I can no more.

CLEOPATRA                      Noblest of men, woo't die?
    Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide
    In this dull world, which in thy absence is
    No better than a sty? O, see, my women,

    [MARK ANTONY dies]

    The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord!
    O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
    The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls
    Are level now with men; the odds is gone,
    And there is nothing left remarkable
    Beneath the visiting moon.

    [Faints]

CHARMIAN    O, quietness, lady!

IRAS    She is dead too, our sovereign.

CHARMIAN    Lady!

IRAS    Madam!

CHARMIAN    O madam, madam, madam!

IRAS    Royal Egypt, Empress!

CHARMIAN    Peace, peace, Iras!

CLEOPATRA    No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded
    By such poor passion as the maid that milks
    And does the meanest chares. It were for me
    To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
    To tell them that this world did equal theirs
    Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;
    Patience is scottish, and impatience does
    Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin
    To rush into the secret house of death,
    Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women?
    What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian!
    My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look,
    Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart:
    We'll bury him; and then, what's brave,
    what's noble,
    Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,
    And make death proud to take us. Come, away:
    This case of that huge spirit now is cold:
    Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend
    But resolution, and the briefest end.

    [Exeunt; those above bearing off MARK ANTONY's body]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT V



SCENE I    Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp.


    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MECAENAS,
    GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, and others, his council of war]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;
    Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks
    The pauses that he makes.

DOLABELLA    Caesar, I shall.

    [Exit]

    [Enter DERCETAS, with the sword of MARK ANTONY]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Wherefore is that? and what art thou that darest
    Appear thus to us?

DERCETAS                      I am call'd Dercetas;
    Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy
    Best to be served: whilst he stood up and spoke,
    He was my master; and I wore my life
    To spend upon his haters. If thou please
    To take me to thee, as I was to him
    I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not,
    I yield thee up my life.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    What is't thou say'st?

DERCETAS    I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    The breaking of so great a thing should make
    A greater crack: the round world
    Should have shook lions into civil streets,
    And citizens to their dens: the death of Antony
    Is not a single doom; in the name lay
    A moiety of the world.

DERCETAS    He is dead, Caesar:
    Not by a public minister of justice,
    Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand,
    Which writ his honour in the acts it did,
    Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,
    Splitted the heart. This is his sword;
    I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd
    With his most noble blood.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Look you sad, friends?
    The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings
    To wash the eyes of kings.

AGRIPPA    And strange it is,
    That nature must compel us to lament
    Our most persisted deeds.

MECAENAS    His taints and honours
    Waged equal with him.

AGRIPPA    A rarer spirit never
    Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
    Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd.

MECAENAS    When such a spacious mirror's set before him,
    He needs must see himself.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    O Antony!
    I have follow'd thee to this; but we do lance
    Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce
    Have shown to thee such a declining day,
    Or look on thine; we could not stall together
    In the whole world: but yet let me lament,
    With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
    That thou, my brother, my competitor
    In top of all design, my mate in empire,
    Friend and companion in the front of war,
    The arm of mine own body, and the heart
    Where mine his thoughts did kindle,--that our stars,
    Unreconciliable, should divide
    Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends--
    But I will tell you at some meeter season:

    [Enter an Egyptian]

    The business of this man looks out of him;
    We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you?

Egyptian    A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress,
    Confined in all she has, her monument,
    Of thy intents desires instruction,
    That she preparedly may frame herself
    To the way she's forced to.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Bid her have good heart:
    She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
    How honourable and how kindly we
    Determine for her; for Caesar cannot live
    To be ungentle.

Egyptian    So the gods preserve thee!

    [Exit]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say,
    We purpose her no shame: give her what comforts
    The quality of her passion shall require,
    Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
    She do defeat us; for her life in Rome
    Would be eternal in our triumph: go,
    And with your speediest bring us what she says,
    And how you find of her.

PROCULEIUS    Caesar, I shall.

    [Exit]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Gallus, go you along.

    [Exit GALLUS]

        Where's Dolabella,
    To second Proculeius?

All    Dolabella!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Let him alone, for I remember now
    How he's employ'd: he shall in time be ready.
    Go with me to my tent; where you shall see
    How hardly I was drawn into this war;
    How calm and gentle I proceeded still
    In all my writings: go with me, and see
    What I can show in this.

    [Exeunt]




    ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA


ACT V



SCENE II    Alexandria. A room in the monument.


    [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS]

CLEOPATRA    My desolation does begin to make
    A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar;
    Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave,
    A minister of her will: and it is great
    To do that thing that ends all other deeds;
    Which shackles accidents and bolts up change;
    Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug,
    The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.

    [Enter, to the gates of the monument, PROCULEIUS,
    GALLUS and Soldiers]

PROCULEIUS    Caesar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt;
    And bids thee study on what fair demands
    Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.

CLEOPATRA    What's thy name?

PROCULEIUS    My name is Proculeius.

CLEOPATRA    Antony
    Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but
    I do not greatly care to be deceived,
    That have no use for trusting. If your master
    Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him,
    That majesty, to keep decorum, must
    No less beg than a kingdom: if he please
    To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son,
    He gives me so much of mine own, as I
    Will kneel to him with thanks.

PROCULEIUS    Be of good cheer;
    You're fall'n into a princely hand, fear nothing:
    Make your full reference freely to my lord,
    Who is so full of grace, that it flows over
    On all that need: let me report to him
    Your sweet dependency; and you shall find
    A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness,
    Where he for grace is kneel'd to.

CLEOPATRA    Pray you, tell him
    I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him
    The greatness he has got. I hourly learn
    A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly
    Look him i' the face.

PROCULEIUS    This I'll report, dear lady.
    Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied
    Of him that caused it.

GALLUS    You see how easily she may be surprised:

    [Here PROCULEIUS and two of the Guard ascend the
    monument by a ladder placed against a window, and,
    having descended, come behind CLEOPATRA. Some of
    the Guard unbar and open the gates]

    [To PROCULEIUS and the Guard]

    Guard her till Caesar come.

    [Exit]

IRAS    Royal queen!

CHARMIAN    O Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen:

CLEOPATRA    Quick, quick, good hands.

    [Drawing a dagger]

PROCULEIUS    Hold, worthy lady, hold:

    [Seizes and disarms her]

    Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this
    Relieved, but not betray'd.

CLEOPATRA    What, of death too,
    That rids our dogs of languish?

PROCULEIUS    Cleopatra,
    Do not abuse my master's bounty by
    The undoing of yourself: let the world see
    His nobleness well acted, which your death
    Will never let come forth.

CLEOPATRA    Where art thou, death?
    Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen
    Worthy many babes and beggars!

PROCULEIUS    O, temperance, lady!

CLEOPATRA    Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir;
    If idle talk will once be necessary,
    I'll not sleep neither: this mortal house I'll ruin,
    Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I
    Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court;
    Nor once be chastised with the sober eye
    Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up
    And show me to the shouting varletry
    Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt
    Be gentle grave unto me! rather on Nilus' mud
    Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies
    Blow me into abhorring! rather make
    My country's high pyramides my gibbet,
    And hang me up in chains!

PROCULEIUS    You do extend
    These thoughts of horror further than you shall
    Find cause in Caesar.

    [Enter DOLABELLA]

DOLABELLA    Proculeius,
    What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows,
    And he hath sent for thee: for the queen,
    I'll take her to my guard.

PROCULEIUS    So, Dolabella,
    It shall content me best: be gentle to her.

    [To CLEOPATRA]

    To Caesar I will speak what you shall please,
    If you'll employ me to him.

CLEOPATRA    Say, I would die.

    [Exeunt PROCULEIUS and Soldiers]

DOLABELLA    Most noble empress, you have heard of me?

CLEOPATRA    I cannot tell.

DOLABELLA                      Assuredly you know me.

CLEOPATRA    No matter, sir, what I have heard or known.
    You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams;
    Is't not your trick?

DOLABELLA    I understand not, madam.

CLEOPATRA    I dream'd there was an Emperor Antony:
    O, such another sleep, that I might see
    But such another man!

DOLABELLA    If it might please ye,--

CLEOPATRA    His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck
    A sun and moon, which kept their course,
    and lighted
    The little O, the earth.

DOLABELLA    Most sovereign creature,--

CLEOPATRA    His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm
    Crested the world: his voice was propertied
    As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
    But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
    He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
    There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas
    That grew the more by reaping: his delights
    Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above
    The element they lived in: in his livery
    Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were
    As plates dropp'd from his pocket.

DOLABELLA    Cleopatra!

CLEOPATRA    Think you there was, or might be, such a man
    As this I dream'd of?

DOLABELLA    Gentle madam, no.

CLEOPATRA    You lie, up to the hearing of the gods.
    But, if there be, or ever were, one such,
    It's past the size of dreaming: nature wants stuff
    To vie strange forms with fancy; yet, to imagine
    And Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy,
    Condemning shadows quite.

DOLABELLA    Hear me, good madam.
    Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear it
    As answering to the weight: would I might never
    O'ertake pursued success, but I do feel,
    By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites
    My very heart at root.

CLEOPATRA    I thank you, sir,
    Know you what Caesar means to do with me?

DOLABELLA    I am loath to tell you what I would you knew.

CLEOPATRA    Nay, pray you, sir,--

DOLABELLA    Though he be honourable,--

CLEOPATRA    He'll lead me, then, in triumph?

DOLABELLA    Madam, he will; I know't.

    [Flourish, and shout within, 'Make way there:
    Octavius Caesar!']

    [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS,
    MECAENAS, SELEUCUS, and others of his Train]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Which is the Queen of Egypt?

DOLABELLA    It is the emperor, madam.

    [CLEOPATRA kneels]

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Arise, you shall not kneel:
    I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt.

CLEOPATRA    Sir, the gods
    Will have it thus; my master and my lord
    I must obey.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR                      Take to you no hard thoughts:
    The record of what injuries you did us,
    Though written in our flesh, we shall remember
    As things but done by chance.

CLEOPATRA    Sole sir o' the world,
    I cannot project mine own cause so well
    To make it clear; but do confess I have
    Been laden with like frailties which before
    Have often shamed our sex.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Cleopatra, know,
    We will extenuate rather than enforce:
    If you apply yourself to our intents,
    Which towards you are most gentle, you shall find
    A benefit in this change; but if you seek
    To lay on me a cruelty, by taking
    Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself
    Of my good purposes, and put your children
    To that destruction which I'll guard them from,
    If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave.

CLEOPATRA    And may, through all the world: 'tis yours; and we,
    Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, shall
    Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.

CLEOPATRA    This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels,
    I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued;
    Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?

SELEUCUS    Here, madam.

CLEOPATRA    This is my treasurer: let him speak, my lord,
    Upon his peril, that I have reserved
    To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.

SELEUCUS    Madam,
    I had rather seal my lips, than, to my peril,
    Speak that which is not.

CLEOPATRA    What have I kept back?

SELEUCUS    Enough to purchase what you have made known.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve
    Your wisdom in the deed.

CLEOPATRA    See, Caesar! O, behold,
    How pomp is follow'd! mine will now be yours;
    And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine.
    The ingratitude of this Seleucus does
    Even make me wild: O slave, of no more trust
    Than love that's hired! What, goest thou back? thou shalt
    Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes,
    Though they had wings: slave, soulless villain, dog!
    O rarely base!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR                      Good queen, let us entreat you.

CLEOPATRA    O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this,
    That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,
    Doing the honour of thy lordliness
    To one so meek, that mine own servant should
    Parcel the sum of my disgraces by
    Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar,
    That I some lady trifles have reserved,
    Immoment toys, things of such dignity
    As we greet modern friends withal; and say,
    Some nobler token I have kept apart
    For Livia and Octavia, to induce
    Their mediation; must I be unfolded
    With one that I have bred? The gods! it smites me
    Beneath the fall I have.

    [To SELEUCUS]

           Prithee, go hence;
    Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits
    Through the ashes of my chance: wert thou a man,
    Thou wouldst have mercy on me.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Forbear, Seleucus.

    [Exit SELEUCUS]

CLEOPATRA    Be it known, that we, the greatest, are misthought
    For things that others do; and, when we fall,
    We answer others' merits in our name,
    Are therefore to be pitied.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Cleopatra,
    Not what you have reserved, nor what acknowledged,
    Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be't yours,
    Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,
    Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you
    Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd;
    Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear queen;
    For we intend so to dispose you as
    Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep:
    Our care and pity is so much upon you,
    That we remain your friend; and so, adieu.

CLEOPATRA    My master, and my lord!

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Not so. Adieu.

    [Flourish. Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR and his train]

CLEOPATRA    He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not
    Be noble to myself: but, hark thee, Charmian.

    [Whispers CHARMIAN]

IRAS    Finish, good lady; the bright day is done,
    And we are for the dark.

CLEOPATRA    Hie thee again:
    I have spoke already, and it is provided;
    Go put it to the haste.

CHARMIAN    Madam, I will.

    [Re-enter DOLABELLA]

DOLABELLA    Where is the queen?

CHARMIAN    Behold, sir.

    [Exit]

CLEOPATRA    Dolabella!

DOLABELLA    Madam, as thereto sworn by your command,
    Which my love makes religion to obey,
    I tell you this: Caesar through Syria
    Intends his journey; and within three days
    You with your children will he send before:
    Make your best use of this: I have perform'd
    Your pleasure and my promise.

CLEOPATRA    Dolabella,
    I shall remain your debtor.

DOLABELLA    I your servant,
    Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Caesar.

CLEOPATRA    Farewell, and thanks.

    [Exit DOLABELLA]

        Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
    Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown
    In Rome, as well as I    mechanic slaves
    With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
    Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths,
    Rank of gross diet, shall be enclouded,
    And forced to drink their vapour.

IRAS    The gods forbid!

CLEOPATRA    Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: saucy lictors
    Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers
    Ballad us out o' tune: the quick comedians
    Extemporally will stage us, and present
    Our Alexandrian revels; Antony
    Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
    Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness
    I' the posture of a whore.

IRAS    O the good gods!

CLEOPATRA    Nay, that's certain.

IRAS    I'll never see 't; for, I am sure, my nails
    Are stronger than mine eyes.

CLEOPATRA    Why, that's the way
    To fool their preparation, and to conquer
    Their most absurd intents.

    [Re-enter CHARMIAN]

             Now, Charmian!
    Show me, my women, like a queen: go fetch
    My best attires: I am again for Cydnus,
    To meet Mark Antony: sirrah Iras, go.
    Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed;
    And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
    To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all.
    Wherefore's this noise?

    [Exit IRAS. A noise within]

    [Enter a Guardsman]

Guard    Here is a rural fellow
    That will not be denied your highness presence:
    He brings you figs.

CLEOPATRA    Let him come in.

    [Exit Guardsman]

    What poor an instrument
    May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
    My resolution's placed, and I have nothing
    Of woman in me: now from head to foot
    I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon
    No planet is of mine.

    [Re-enter Guardsman, with Clown bringing in a basket]

Guard    This is the man.

CLEOPATRA    Avoid, and leave him.

    [Exit Guardsman]

    Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,
    That kills and pains not?

Clown    Truly, I have him: but I would not be the party
    that should desire you to touch him, for his biting
    is immortal; those that do die of it do seldom or
    never recover.

CLEOPATRA    Rememberest thou any that have died on't?

Clown    Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of
    them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman,
    but something given to lie; as a woman should not
    do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the
    biting of it, what pain she felt: truly, she makes
    a very good report o' the worm; but he that will
    believe all that they say, shall never be saved by
    half that they do: but this is most fallible, the
    worm's an odd worm.

CLEOPATRA    Get thee hence; farewell.

Clown    I wish you all joy of the worm.

    [Setting down his basket]

CLEOPATRA    Farewell.

Clown    You must think this, look you, that the worm will
    do his kind.

CLEOPATRA    Ay, ay; farewell.

Clown    Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the
    keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no
    goodness in worm.


CLEOPATRA    Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.

Clown    Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is
    not worth the feeding.

CLEOPATRA    Will it eat me?

Clown    You must not think I am so simple but I know the
    devil himself will not eat a woman: I know that a
    woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her
    not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the
    gods great harm in their women; for in every ten
    that they make, the devils mar five.

CLEOPATRA    Well, get thee gone; farewell.

Clown    Yes, forsooth: I wish you joy o' the worm.

    [Exit]

    [Re-enter IRAS with a robe, crown, &c]

CLEOPATRA    Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
    Immortal longings in me: now no more
    The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:
    Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear
    Antony call; I see him rouse himself
    To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
    The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
    To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come:
    Now to that name my courage prove my title!
    I am fire and air; my other elements
    I give to baser life. So; have you done?
    Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
    Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.

    [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies]

    Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
    If thou and nature can so gently part,
    The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
    Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still?
    If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
    It is not worth leave-taking.

CHARMIAN    Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say,
    The gods themselves do weep!

CLEOPATRA    This proves me base:
    If she first meet the curled Antony,
    He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss
    Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou
    mortal wretch,

    [To an asp, which she applies to her breast]

    With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
    Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool
    Be angry, and dispatch. O, couldst thou speak,
    That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass
    Unpolicied!

CHARMIAN              O eastern star!

CLEOPATRA    Peace, peace!
    Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
    That sucks the nurse asleep?

CHARMIAN    O, break! O, break!

CLEOPATRA    As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,--
    O Antony!--Nay, I will take thee too.

    [Applying another asp to her arm]

    What should I stay--

    [Dies]

CHARMIAN    In this vile world? So, fare thee well.
    Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies
    A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows, close;
    And golden Phoebus never be beheld
    Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
    I'll mend it, and then play.

    [Enter the Guard, rushing in]

First Guard    Where is the queen?

CHARMIAN    Speak softly, wake her not.

First Guard    Caesar hath sent--

CHARMIAN                      Too slow a messenger.

    [Applies an asp]

    O, come apace, dispatch! I partly feel thee.

First Guard    Approach, ho! All's not well: Caesar's beguiled.

Second Guard    There's Dolabella sent from Caesar; call him.

First Guard    What work is here! Charmian, is this well done?

CHARMIAN    It is well done, and fitting for a princess
    Descended of so many royal kings.
    Ah, soldier!

    [Dies]

    [Re-enter DOLABELLA]

DOLABELLA    How goes it here?

Second Guard                      All dead.

DOLABELLA    Caesar, thy thoughts
    Touch their effects in this: thyself art coming
    To see perform'd the dreaded act which thou
    So sought'st to hinder.

    [Within  'A way there, a way for Caesar!']

    [Re-enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR and all his train marching]

DOLABELLA    O sir, you are too sure an augurer;
    That you did fear is done.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Bravest at the last,
    She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal,
    Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?
    I do not see them bleed.

DOLABELLA    Who was last with them?

First Guard    A simple countryman, that brought her figs:
    This was his basket.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Poison'd, then.

First Guard    O Caesar,
    This Charmian lived but now; she stood and spake:
    I found her trimming up the diadem
    On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood
    And on the sudden dropp'd.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    O noble weakness!
    If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear
    By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,
    As she would catch another Antony
    In her strong toil of grace.

DOLABELLA    Here, on her breast,
    There is a vent of blood and something blown:
    The like is on her arm.

First Guard    This is an aspic's trail: and these fig-leaves
    Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves
    Upon the caves of Nile.

OCTAVIUS CAESAR    Most probable
    That so she died; for her physician tells me
    She hath pursued conclusions infinite
    Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed;
    And bear her women from the monument:
    She shall be buried by her Antony:
    No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
    A pair so famous. High events as these
    Strike those that make them; and their story is
    No less in pity than his glory which
    Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall
    In solemn show attend this funeral;
    And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
    High order in this great solemnity.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


    DRAMATIS PERSONAE


CAIUS MARCIUS    (MARCUS:)  Afterwards CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS.
    (CORIOLANUS:)


TITUS LARTIUS    (LARTIUS:)    |
        |  generals against the Volscians.
COMINIUS        |


MENENIUS AGRIPPA    friend to Coriolanus. (MENENIUS:)


SICINIUS VELUTUS    (SICINIUS:)    |
        |  tribunes of the people.
JUNIUS BRUTUS    (BRUTUS:)    |


Young MARCUS    son to Coriolanus.

    A Roman Herald. (Herald:)

TULLUS AUFIDIUS    general of the Volscians. (AUFIDIUS:)

    Lieutenant to Aufidius. (Lieutenant:)

    Conspirators with Aufidius.
    (First Conspirator:)
    (Second Conspirator:)
    (Third Conspirator:)

    A Citizen of Antium.

    Two Volscian Guards.

VOLUMNIA    mother to Coriolanus.

VIRGILIA    wife to Coriolanus.

VALERIA    friend to Virgilia.

    Gentlewoman, attending on Virgilia. (Gentlewoman:)

    Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians,
    AEdiles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers,
    Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants.
    (First Senator:)
    (Second Senator:)
    (A Patrician:)
    (Second Patrician:)
    (AEdile:)
    (First Soldier:)
    (Second Soldier:)
    (First Citizen:)
    (Second Citizen:)
    (Third Citizen:)
    (Fourth Citizen:)
    (Fifth Citizen:)
    (Sixth Citizen:)
    (Seventh Citizen:)
    (Messenger:)
    (Second Messenger:)
    (First Serviceman:)
    (Second Serviceman:)
    (Third Serviceman:)
    (Officer:)
    (First Officer:)
    (Second Officer:)
    (Roman:)
    (First Roman:)
    (Second Roman:)
    (Third Roman:)
    (Volsce:)
    (First Lord:)
    (Second Lord:)
    (Third Lord:)


SCENE    Rome and the neighbourhood; Corioli
    and the neighbourhood; Antium.




    CORIOLANUS



ACT I



SCENE I    Rome. A street.


    [Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves,
    clubs, and other weapons]

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.

    [Shouts within]

    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?

    [Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA]

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.

    [Enter CAIUS MARCIUS]

               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!

    [Enter a Messenger, hastily]

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.

    [Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other Senators;
    JUNIUS BRUTUS and SICINIUS VELUTUS]

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    [To COMINIUS]                Lead you on.

    [To MARCIUS]  Follow Cominius; we must follow you;
    Right worthy you priority.

COMINIUS    Noble Marcius!

First Senator    [To the Citizens]  Hence to your homes; be gone!

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.

    [Citizens steal away. Exeunt all but SICINIUS
    and BRUTUS]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE II    Corioli. The Senate-house.


    [Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS and certain Senators]

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.

    [Reads]

    '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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE III    Rome. A room in Marcius' house.


    [Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA    they set them down
    on two low stools, and sew]

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.

    [Enter a Gentlewoman]

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.

    [Exit Gentlewoman]

VIRGILIA    Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius!

VOLUMNIA    He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee
    And tread upon his neck.

    [Enter VALERIA, with an Usher and Gentlewoman]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE IV    Before Corioli.


    [Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS
    LARTIUS, Captains and Soldiers. To them a
    Messenger]

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.

    [They sound a parley. Enter two Senators with others
    on the walls]

    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.

    [Drums afar off]

               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.

    [Alarum afar off]

              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!

    [Enter the army of the Volsces]

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.

    [Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their
    trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS cursing]

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.

    [Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and MARCIUS
    follows them to the gates]

    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.

    [Enters the gates]

First Soldier    Fool-hardiness; not I.

Second Soldier    Nor I.

    [MARCIUS is shut in]

First Soldier    See, they have shut him in.

All    To the pot, I warrant him.

    [Alarum continues]

    [Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS]

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.

    [Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy]

First Soldier    Look, sir.

LARTIUS    O,'tis Marcius!
    Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike.

    [They fight, and all enter the city]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE V    Corioli. A street.


    [Enter certain Romans, with spoils]

First Roman    This will I carry to Rome.

Second Roman    And I this.

Third Roman    A murrain on't! I took this for silver.

    [Alarum continues still afar off]

    [Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS with a trumpet]

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!

    [Exit MARCIUS]

    Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place;
    Call thither all the officers o' the town,
    Where they shall know our mind: away!

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE VI    Near the camp of Cominius.


    [Enter COMINIUS, as it were in retire,
    with soldiers]

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.

    [Enter a Messenger]

                          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    [Within]                 Come I too late?

COMINIUS    The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour
    More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue
    From every meaner man.

    [Enter MARCIUS]

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.

    [They all shout and wave their swords, take him up in
    their arms, and cast up their caps]

    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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE VII    The gates of Corioli.


    [TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon
    Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward
    COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with
    Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE VIII    A field of battle.


    [Alarum as in battle. Enter, from opposite sides,
    MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS]

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.

    [They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of
    AUFIDIUS. MARCIUS fights till they be driven in
    breathless]

    Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me
    In your condemned seconds.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE IX    The Roman camp.


    [Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish.
    Enter, from one side, COMINIUS with the Romans; from
    the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf]

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.

    [Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power,
    from the pursuit]

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.

    [A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius! Marcius!'
    cast up their caps and lances: COMINIUS and LARTIUS
    stand bare]

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!

    [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT I



SCENE X    The camp of the Volsces.


    [A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS,
    bloody, with two or three Soldiers]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT II



SCENE I    Rome. A public place.


    [Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of the people,
    SICINIUS and BRUTUS.

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.

    [BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside]

    [Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA]

    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.
VIRGILIA    |


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?

    [To the Tribunes]

    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.

    [A shout and flourish]

    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.

    [A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the
    general, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS,
    crowned with an oaken garland; with Captains and
    Soldiers, and a Herald]

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!

    [Flourish]

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!

    [Kneels]

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?

    [To VALERIA]
    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    [To VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA]  Your hand, and yours:
    Ere in our own house I do shade my head,
    The good patricians must be visited;
    From whom I have received not only greetings,
    But with them change of honours.

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!

    [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before.
    BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward]

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.

    [Enter a Messenger]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT II



SCENE  II    The same. The Capitol.


    [Enter two Officers, to lay cushions]

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.

    [A sennet. Enter, with actors before them, COMINIUS
    the consul, MENENIUS, CORIOLANUS, Senators,
    SICINIUS and BRUTUS. The Senators take their
    places; the Tribunes take their Places by
    themselves. CORIOLANUS stands]

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.

    [To the Tribunes]

             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.

    [CORIOLANUS offers to go away]

          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.

    [Exit]

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.

    [Re-enter CORIOLANUS]

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!

    [Flourish of cornets. Exeunt all but SICINIUS
    and BRUTUS]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT II



SCENE III    The same. The Forum.


    [Enter seven or eight Citizens]

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.

    [Enter CORIOLANUS in a gown of humility,
    with MENENIUS]

    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.

    [Exeunt Citizens]

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.

    [Exit]

CORIOLANUS    Bid them wash their faces
    And keep their teeth clean.

    [Re-enter two of the Citizens]

              So, here comes a brace.

    [Re-enter a third Citizen]

    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.

    [Exeunt the three Citizens]

    [Re-enter two other Citizens]

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!

    [Exeunt]

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.

    [Re-enter three Citizens more]

    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!

    [Exeunt]

CORIOLANUS    Worthy voices!

    [Re-enter MENENIUS, with BRUTUS and SICINIUS]

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.

    [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS]

    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?

    [Re-enter Citizens]

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  [Censorinus,]  nobly named so,
    Twice being  [by the people chosen]  censor,
    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.

    [Exeunt Citizens]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT III



SCENE I    Rome. A street.


    [Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, all the
    Gentry, COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other Senators]

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.

    [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS]

    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!

    [Enter an AEdile]

    Let him be apprehended.

SICINIUS    Go, call the people:

    [Exit AEdile]

        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!

    [Enter a rabble of Citizens (Plebeians), with
    the AEdiles]

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!

    [They all bustle about CORIOLANUS, crying]

    '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    [To BRUTUS]  Be that you seem, truly your
    country's friend,
    And temperately proceed to what you would
    Thus violently redress.

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.

    [Drawing his sword]

    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!

    [In this mutiny, the Tribunes, the AEdiles, and the
    People, are beat in]

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.

    [Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, and others]

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.

    [A noise within]

              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?

    [Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the rabble]

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.

    [To the Senators]

    Let me desire your company: he must come,
    Or what is worst will follow.

First Senator    Pray you, let's to him.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT III



SCENE II    A room in CORIOLANUS'S house.


    [Enter CORIOLANUS with Patricians]

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.

    [Enter VOLUMNIA]

            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.

    [Enter MENENIUS and Senators]

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.

    [Enter 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.

    [Exit]

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!

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT III



SCENE III    The same. The Forum.


    [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS]

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.

    [Enter an AEdile]

    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.

    [Exit AEdile]

    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.

    [Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, and COMINIUS,
    with Senators and Patricians]

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.

    [Re-enter AEdile, with Citizens]

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.

    [Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, MENENIUS, Senators,
    and Patricians]

AEdile    The people's enemy is gone, is gone!

Citizens    Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! hoo!

    [Shouting, and throwing up their caps]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE I    Rome. Before a gate of the city.


    [Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS,
    COMINIUS, with the young Nobility of Rome]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE II    The same. A  street near the gate.


    [Enter SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and an AEdile]

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.

    [Exit AEdile]

    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.

    [Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and MENENIUS]

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.

    [To BRUTUS]

                Will you be gone?

VIRGILIA    [To SICINIUS]  You shall stay too: I would I had the power
    To say so to my husband.

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.

    [Exeunt Tribunes]

    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!

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE III    A highway between Rome and Antium.


    [Enter a Roman and a Volsce, meeting]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE IV    Antium. Before Aufidius's house.


    [Enter CORIOLANUS in mean apparel, disguised
    and muffled]

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.

    [Enter a Citizen]

          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.

    [Exit Citizen]

    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.

    [Exit]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE V    The same. A hall in Aufidius's house.


    [Music within. Enter a Servingman]

First Servingman    Wine, wine, wine! What service
    is here! I think our fellows are asleep.

    [Exit]

    [Enter a second Servingman]

Second Servingman    Where's Cotus? my master calls
    for him. Cotus!

    [Exit]

    [Enter CORIOLANUS]

CORIOLANUS    A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I
    Appear not like a guest.

    [Re-enter the first Servingman]

First Servingman    What would you have, friend? whence are you?
    Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door.

    [Exit]

CORIOLANUS    I have deserved no better entertainment,
    In being Coriolanus.

    [Re-enter second Servingman]

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.

    [Enter a third Servingman. The first meets him]

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.

    [Retires]

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.

    [Pushes him away]

Third Servingman    What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a
    strange guest he has here.

Second Servingman    And I shall.

    [Exit]

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!

    [Beats him away. Exit third Servingman]

    [Enter AUFIDIUS with the second Servingman]

AUFIDIUS    Where is this fellow?

Second Servingman    Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for
    disturbing the lords within.

    [Retires]

AUFIDIUS    Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name?
    Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name?

CORIOLANUS    If, Tullus,

    [Unmuffling]

    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!

    [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS. The two
    Servingmen come forward]

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.

    [Re-enter third Servingman]

Third Servingman    O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals!


First Servingman    |
    |  What, what, what? let's partake.
Second Servingman    |


Third Servingman    I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as
    lieve be a condemned man.


First Servingman    |
    |  Wherefore? wherefore?
Second Servingman    |


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!

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE VI    Rome. A public place.


    [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS]

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.

    [Enter MENENIUS]

              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.

    [Enter three or four Citizens]

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.

    [Exeunt Citizens]

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.

    [Enter an AEdile]

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.

    [Enter a Messenger]

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.

    [Enter a second Messenger]

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.

    [Enter COMINIUS]

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.

    [Enter a troop of Citizens]

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?

    [Exeunt COMINIUS and MENENIUS]

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.

    [Exeunt Citizens]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT IV



SCENE VII    A camp, at a small distance from Rome.


    [Enter AUFIDIUS and his Lieutenant]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE I    Rome. A public place.


    [Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS,
    and others]

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.

    [Exit]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE II    Entrance of the Volscian camp before Rome.
    Two Sentinels on guard.


    [Enter to them, MENENIUS]

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,--

    [Enter CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS]

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.

    [To CORIOLANUS]

    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

    [Gives a letter]

    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.

    [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS]

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!

    [Exit]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE III    The tent of Coriolanus.


    [Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others]

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?

    [Shout within]

    Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow
    In the same time 'tis made? I will not.

    [Enter in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA,
    leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and Attendants]

    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;

    [Kneels]

    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.

    [Kneels]

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.

    [Rising]

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.

    [He holds her by the hand, silent]

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    [Aside]  I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and
    thy honour
    At difference in thee: out of that I'll work
    Myself a former fortune.

    [The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS]

CORIOLANUS    Ay, by and by;

    [To VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &c]

    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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE IV    Rome. A public place.


    [Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS]

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.

    [Enter a Messenger]

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.

    [Enter a second Messenger]

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!

    [Trumpets; hautboys; drums beat; all together]

    The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes,
    Tabours and cymbals and the shouting Romans,
    Make the sun dance. Hark you!

    [A shout within]

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!

    [Music still, with shouts]

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.

    [Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE V    The same. A street near the gate.


    [Enter two Senators with VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA,
    VALERIA, &c. passing over the stage,
    followed by Patricians and others]

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!

    [A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt]




    CORIOLANUS


ACT V



SCENE VI    Antium. A public place.


    [Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants]

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.

    [Exeunt Attendants]

    [Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS' faction]

    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!

    [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of
    the People]

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.

    [Enter the Lords of the city]

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.

    [Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and
    colours; commoners being with 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!

    [The Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS:
    AUFIDIUS stands on his body]

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.

    [Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS. A dead
    march sounded]




    GLOSSARY


ABATE    to shorten
    To cast down
    To blunt
ABATEMENT    diminution
ABHOR    protest; disgust
ABIDE    to sojourn
    to expiate
ABLE    to uphold
ABRIDGEMENT    a short play
ABROAD    away, apart
ABROOK    to brook, abide
ABSEY-BOOK    a primer
ABSOLUTE    positive, certain
    Complete
ABUSE    to deceive
ABUSE    deception
ABY    to expiate a fault
ABYSM    abyss
ACCITE    to cite, summon
ACCUSE    accusation
ACHIEVE    to obtain
ACKNOWN    'to be acknown' is to acknowledge
ACQUITTANCE    a receipt or discharge
ACTION-TAKING    litigious
ACTURE    action
ADDITION    title, attribute
ADDRESS    to prepare oneself
ADDRESSED    prepared
ADVANCE    to prefer, promote to honour
ADVERTISEMENT    admonition
ADVERTISING    attentive
ADVICE    consideration, discretion
ADVISE    sometimes neuter, sometimes reflective, to
    consider, reflect
ADVISED    considerate
ADVOCATION    pleading, advocacy
AFEARED    afraid
AFFECT    to love
AFFY    to affiance
    To trust
AFRONT    in front
AGAZED    looking in amazement
AGLET-BABY    the small figure engraved on a jewel
AGNISE    to acknowledge, confess
A-GOOD    a good deal, plenteously
A-HOLD    a sea-term
AIERIE    the nest of a bird of prey
AIM    a guess
ALDER-LIEFEST    most loved of all
ALE    alehouse
ALLOW    to approve
ALLOWANCE    approval
AMES-ACE    two aces, the lowest throw of the dice
AMORT    dead, dejected
AN    if
ANCHOR    an anchorite, hermit
ANCIENT    an ensign-bearer
ANGEL    a coin, so called because it bore the image of
    an angel
ANIGHT    by night
ANSWER    retaliation
ANTHROPOPHAGINIAN    a cannibal
ANTICK    the fool in the old plays
ANTRE    a cave
APPARENT    heir-apparent
APPEAL    accusation
APPEAL    to accuse
APPEARED    made apparent
APPLE-JOHN    a kind of apple
APPOINTMENT    preparation
APPREHENSION    opinion
APPREHENSIVE    apt to apprehend or understand
APPROBATION    probation
APPROOF    approbation, proof
APPROVE    to prove
    To justify, make good
APPROVER    one who proves or tries
ARCH    chief
ARGAL    a ridiculous word intended for the Latin ergo
ARGENTINE    silver
ARGIER    Algiers
ARGOSY    originally a vessel of Ragusa or Ragosa, a
    Ragosine; hence any ship of burden
ARGUMENT    subject
ARMIGERO    a mistake for Armiger, the Latin for Esquire
AROINT    found only in the imperative mood, get thee
    gone
A-ROW    in a row
ARTICULATE    to enter into articles of agreement
    to exhibit in articles
ASK    to require
ASPECT    regard, looks
ASPERSION    sprinkling; hence blessing, because before the
    Reformation benediction was generally accompanied
    by the sprinkling of holy water
ASSAY    attempt
ASSAY    to attempt, test, make proof of
ASSINEGO    an ass
ASSUBJUGATE    to subjugate
ASSURANCE    deed of assurance
ASSURED    betrothed
ATOMY    an atom
    Used in contempt of a small person
ATONE    to put people at one, to reconcile
    to agree
ATTACH    to seize, lay hold on
ATTASKED    taken to task, reprehended
ATTEND    to listen to
ATTENT    attentive
ATTORNEY    an agent
ATTORNEY    to employ as an agent
    To perform by an agent
AUDACIOUS    spirited, daring, but without any note of blame
    attached to it
AUGUR    augury
AUTHENTIC    clothed with authority
AVAUNT    int. be gone, a word of abhorrence
AVE    the Latin for hail; hence acclamation
AVE-MARY    the angelic salutation addressed to the Blessed
    Virgin Mary
AVERRING    confirming
AVOID    get rid of
AWFUL    worshipful
AWKWARD    contrary


BACCARE    keep back
BACKWARD    the hinder part; hence, when applied to time,
    the past
BAFFLE    embarrass
BALKED    heaped, as on a ridge
BALLOW    a cudgel
BALM    the oil of consecration
BAN    to curse
BANK    to sail by the banks
BARM    yeast
BARN    a child
BARNACLE    a shellfish, supposed to produce the sea-bird
    of the same name
BASE    a game, sometimes called Prisoners' base
BASES    an embroidered mantle worn by knights on
    horseback, and reaching from the middle to
    below the knees
BASILISK    a kind of ordnance
BASTA    enough
BASTARD    raisin wine
BATE    to flutter, as a hawk
BATE    to except
    To abate
BAT-FOWLING    catching birds with a clap-net by night
BATLET    a small bat, used for beating clothes
BATTLE    army
BAVIN    used as an a piece of waste wood, applied
    contemptuously to anything worthless

BAWCOCK    a fine fellow
BAWD    procurer
BAY    the space between the main timbers of the roof
BEADSMAN    one who bids bedes, that is, prays prayers
    for another
BEARING-CLOTH    a rich cloth in which children were wrapt at
    their christening
BEAT    to flutter as a falcon, to meditate, consider
    earnestly
BEAVER    the lower part of a helmet
BEETLE    a mallet
BEING    dwelling
BEING    since, inasmuch as
BE-METE    to measure
BE-MOILED    daubed with dirt
BENDING    stooping under a weight
BENVENUTO    (Italian), welcome
BERGOMASK    a rustic dance
BESHREW    evil befal
BESTRAUGHT    distraught, distracted
BETEEM    to pour out
BETID    happened
BEZONIAN    a beggarly fellow
BIDING    abiding-place
BIGGEN    a night-cap
BILBERRY    the whortleberry
BILBO    a sword, from Bilboa, a town in Spain where
    they were made
BILBOES    fetters or stocks
BILL    a bill-hook, a weapon
BIN    been, are
BIRD-BOLT    a bolt to be shot from a crossbow at birds
BIRDING    part. hawking at partridges
BISSON    blind
BLANK    the white mark in the middle of a target;
    hence, metaphorically, that which is aimed at
BLENCH    to start aside, flinch
BLENT    blended
BLOOD-BOLTERED    smeared with blood
BLOW    to inflate
BOARD    to make advances to; accost
BOB    a blow, metaph. a sarcasm
BOB    to strike, metaph. to ridicule, or to obtain
    by raillery
BODGE    to botch, bungle
BODIKIN    a corrupt word used as an oath. 'Od's Bodikin,'
    God's little Body
BOITIER VERT    green box
BOLD    to embolden
BOLLEN    swollen
BOLTED    sifted, refined
BOLTER    a sieve
BOLTING-HUTCH    a hutch in which meal was sifted
BOMBARD    a barrel, a drunkard
BOMBAST    padding
BONA-ROBA    a harlot
BOND    that to which one is bound
BOOK    a paper of conditions
BOOT    help, use
BOOT    to help, to avail
BOOTLESS    without boot or advantage, useless
BOOTS    bots, a kind of worm
BORE    calibre of a gun; hence, metaph. size, weight,
    importance
BOSKY    covered with underwood
BOSOM    wish, heart's desire
BOTS    worms which infest horses
BOURN    a boundary
    A brook
BRACE    armour for the arm, state of defence
BRACH    a hound bitch
BRAID    deceitful
BRAVE    handsome, well-dressed
BRAVE    boast
BRAVERY    finery
    Boastfulness
BRAWL    a kind of dance
BREAST    voice
BREATHE    to exercise
BREATHING    exercising
BREECHING    liable to be whipt
BREED-BATE    a breeder of debate, a fomenter of quarrels
BREESE    the gadfly
BRIBE-BUCK    a buck given away in presents
BRING    to attend one on a journey
BROCK    a badger, a term of contempt
BROKE    to act as a procurer
BROKEN    having lost some teeth by age
BROKEN MUSIC    the music of stringed instruments
BROKER    an agent
BROTHERHOOD    trading company
BROWNIST    a sectary, a follower of Brown, the founder
    of the Independents
BRUIT    noise, report, rumour
BRUIT    to noise abroad
BRUSH    rude assault
BUCK    suds or lye for washing clothes in
BUCK-BASKET    the basket in which clothes are carried to the
    wash
BUCKING    washing
BUCK-WASHING    washing in lye
BUG    a bugbear, a spectre
BULLY-ROOK    a bragging cheater
BURGONET    a kind of helmet
BURST    to break
BUSKY    bushy
BUTT-SHAFT    a light arrow for shooting at a target

BUXOM    obedient
BY'RLAKIN    by our little Lady: an oath


CADDIS    worsted galloon, so called because it resembles
    the caddis-worm
CADE    a cask or barrel
CAGE    a prison
CAIN-COLOURED    red (applied to hair)
CAITIFF    a captive, a slave; hence, a witch
CALCULATE    prophesy
CALIVER    a hand-gun
CALLET    a trull
CALLING    appellation
CALM    qualm
CAN    to know, be skillful in
CANAKIN    a little can
CANARY    a wine brought from the Canary Islands
CANDLE-WASTERS    persons who sit up all night to drink
CANKER    a caterpillar
    The dog-rose
CANSTICK    a candlestick
CANTLE    a slice, corner
CANTON    a canto
CANVAS    to sift: hence, metaphorically, to prove
CAPABLE    subject to
    Intelligent
    Capable of inheriting
    Ample, capacious
CAPITULATE    make a combined force
CAPOCCHIA    a simpleton
CAPRICIO    caprice
CAPRICIOUS    lascivious
CAPTIOUS    capacious
CARACK    a large ship of burden
CARBONADO    meat scotched for broiling
CARBONADO    to scotch for broiling
CARD    the taper on which the points of the compass
    are marked under the mariner's needle
CAREIRE    the curvetting of a horse
CARKANET    a necklace
CARL    a churl
CARLOT    a churl
CASTILIAN    a native of Castile; used as a cant term
CASTILIANO VULGO    a cant term, meaning, apparently, to use discreet
    language
CATAIAN    a native of Cathay, a cant word
CATLING    cat-gut
CAUTEL    deceit
CAUTELOUS    insidious
CAVALERO    a cavalier, gentleman
CAVIARE    the roe of sturgeon pickled; metaph. a delicacy
    not appreciated by the vulgar
CEASE    decease
CEASE    put off, made to cease
CENSURE    judgment
CENSURE    to judge, criticise
CENTURY    a hundred of anything, whether men, prayers, or
    anything else
CEREMONY    a ceremonial vestment, religious rite, or
    anything ceremonial
CERTES    certainly
CESS    rate, reckoning
CHACE    a term at tennis
CHAMBER    a species of great gun
CHAMBERER    an effeminate man
CHANSON    a song
CHARACT    affected quality
CHARACTER    a letter, handwriting
CHARACTER    to carve or engrave
CHARACTERY    handwriting
    That which is written
CHARE    a turn of work
CHARGE-HOUSE    a free-school
CHARLES' WAIN    the constellation called also Ursa Major, or
    the Great Bear
CHARNECO    a species of sweet wine
CHAUDRON    entrails
CHEATER    for escheator, an officer who collected the
    fines to be paid into the Exchequer
    A decoy
CHEQUE    a technical term in falconry; when a falcon
    flies at a bird which is not her proper game she
    is said to cheque at it
CHEQUES    perhaps intended for ethics
CHEER    fortune, countenance
CHERRY-PIT    a game played with cherrystones
CHEVERIL    kid leather
CHEWIT    cough
CHILDING    pregnant
CH'ILL    vulgar for 'I will.'
CHIRURGEONLY    in a manner becoming a surgeon
CHOPIN    a high shoe or clog
CHRISTENDOM    the state of being a Christian
CHRISTOM    clothed with a chrisom, the white garment
    which used to be put on newly-baptized children
CHUCK    chicken, a term of endearment
CHUFF    a coarse blunt clown
CINQUE PACE    a kind of dance
CIPHER    to decipher
CIRCUMSTANCE    an argument
CITAL    recital
CITE    to incite
CITTERN    a guitar
CLACK-DISH    a beggar's dish
CLAP I' THE CLOUT    to shoot an arrow into the bull's eye of the target
CLAW    to flatter
CLEPE    to call
CLIFF    clef, the key in music
CLING    to starve
CLINQUANT    glittering
CLIP    to embrace, enclose
CLOUT    the mark in the middle of a target
COAST    to advance
COBLOAF    a big loaf
COCK    a cockboat
COCK    a euphemism for God
COCK-AND-PIE    an oath
COCKLE    tares or darnel
COCKNEY    a cook
COCK-SHUT-TIME    the twilight, when cocks and hens go to roost
COG    to cheat, dissemble
COGNIZANCE    badge, token
COIGN    projecting corner stone
COIL    tumult, turmoil
COLLECTION    drawing a conclusion
COLLIED    blackened. Othello;
COLOUR    pretence
COLOURABLE    specious
COLT    to defraud, befool
CO-MART    a joint bargain
COMBINATE    betrothed
COMBINE    to bind
COMMODITY    interest, profit
COMMONTY    used ludicrously for comedy
COMPACT    compacted, composed
COMPARATIVE    drawing comparisons
COMPARATIVE    rival
COMPARE    comparison
COMPASSIONATE    moving comparison
COMPETITOR    one who seeks the same thing, an associate in
    any object
COMPLEMENT    accomplishment
COMPLEXION    passion
COMPOSE    to agree
COMPOSTION    composition
COMPTIBLE    tractable
CON    to learn by heart
    To acknowledge
CONCEIT    conception, opinion, fancy
CONCUPY    concubine
CONDITION    temper, quality
CONDOLEMENT    grief
CONDUCT    escort
CONFECT    to make up into sweetmeats
CONFOUND    to consume, destroy
    Coriolanus;
CONJECT    conjecture
CONSIGN    to sign a common bond, to confederate
CONSORT    company
CONSORT    to accompany
CONSTANCY    consistency
CONSTANT    settled, determined
CONSTANTLY    firmly
CONSTER    to construe
CONTEMPTIBLE    contemptuous
CONTINENT    that which contains anything
    That which is contained
CONTINUATE    uninterrupted
CONTRACTION    the marriage contract
CONTRARY    to oppose
CONTRIVE    to conspire
    to wear away
CONTROL    to confute
CONVENT    to convene, summon
    to be convenient
CONVERT    to change
CONVERTITE    a convert
CONVEY    to manage
    To filch
CONVEYANCE    theft, fraud
CONVICT    convicted
CONVICTED    overpowered, vanquished
    A doubtful word
CONVINCE    to conquer, subdue
CONVIVE    to feast together
CONVOY    escort
CONY-CATCH    to cheat
CONY-CATCHING    poaching, pilfering
COOLING CARD    used metaphorically for an insurmountable obstacle
COPATAIN HAT    a high-crowned hat
COPE    to reward, to give in return
COPY    theme
CORAGIO    courage!
CORAM    an ignorant mistake for Quorum
CORANTO    lively dance
CORINTH    a cant term for a brothel
CORINTHIAN    a wencher
CORKY    dry like cork
CORNUTO    a cuckold
COROLLARY    a surplus
CORPORAL    corporeal, bodily
CORPORAL
OF THE FIELD    an aide-de-camp
CORRIVAL    rival
COSTARD    the head
COSTER-MONGER    peddling, mercenary
COTE    a cottage
COTE    to quote, instance
COTE    to come alongside, overtake
COT-QUEAN    an effeminate man, molly-coddle
COUCHINGS    crouchings
COUNT CONFECT    a nobleman composed of affectation
COUNTENANCE    fair shew
COUNTERFEIT    portrait
    A piece of base coin
COUNTERPOINT    a counterpane
COUNTERVAIL    to counterpoise, outweigh
COUNTRY    belonging to one's country
COUNTY    count, earl
COUPLEMENT    union
COURT HOLY-WATER    flattery
COVENT    a convent
COVER    to lay the table for dinner
COWISH    cowardly
COWL-STAFF    the staff on which a vessel is supported
    between two men
COX MY PASSION    an oath, a euphemism for 'God's Passion.'
COY    to stroke, fondle
    to condescend with difficulty
COYSTRIL    a kestrel, a cowardly kind of hawk
COZEN    to cheat
COZENAGE    cheating
COZENER    a cheater
COZIER    a tailor
CRACK    to boast
CRACK    a loud noise, clap
    A forward boy
CRACKER    boaster
CRACK-HEMP    a gallows-bird
CRANK    a winding passage
CRANKING    winding
CRANTS    garlands.  A doubtful word
CRARE    a ship of burden
CRAVEN    a dunghill cock
CREATE    formed, compounded
CREDENT    creditable
    Credible
    Credulous
CREDIT    report
CRESCIVE    increasing
CRESTLESS    not entitled to bear arms, lowborn
CRISP    curled, winding
CROSS    a piece of money, so called because the coin
    was formerly stamped with a cross
CROW-KEEPER    one who scares crows
CROWNER    a coroner
CROWNET    a coronet
CRY    the yelping of hounds
    A pack of hounds
    A company, use contemptuously
CRY AIM    to encourage
CUE    the last words of an actor's speech, which
    is the signal for the next actor to begin
CUISSES    pieces of armour to cover the thighs
CULLION    a base fellow
CUNNING    skill
CUNNING    skilful
CURB    to bend, truckle
CURRENTS    occurrences
CURST
CURSTNESS    shrewishness
CURTAIL    a cur
CURTAL    a docked horse
CURTAL-AXE    a cutlass
CUSTALORUM    a ludicrous mistake for Custos Rotulorum
CUSTARD-COFFIN    the crust of a custard-pudding
CUSTOMER    a common woman
CUT    a cheat
    'To draw cuts' is to draw lots
CYPRESS    a kind of crape


DAFF    to befool
    To put off; this seems to be a corruption of 'doff.'
DAMN    to condemn
DANGER    reach, control, power
DANSKER    a Dane
DARE    to challenge
DARKLING    in the dark
DARRAIGN    to set in array
DAUB    to disguise
DAUBERY    imposition
DAY-WOMAN    a dairy-maid
DEAR    dire
    That which has to do with the affections
    Piteous
    Important
DEARN    lonely
DEBOSHED    debauched, drunken
DECK    to bedew. This is probably a form of the verb
    'to dag,' now a provincial word
DECK    a pack of cards
DECLINE    to enumerate, as in going through the cases of
    a noun
DECLINED    fallen
DEEM    doom, judgment
DEFEAT    to undo, destroy
DEFEAT    destruction
DEFEATURE    disfigurement
DEFENCE    art of fencing
DEFEND    to forbid
DEFENSIBLE    having the power to defend
DEFTLY    dexterously
DEFY    renounce
DEGREES    a step
DELAY    to let slip by delaying
DEMERIT    merit, desert
DEMURELY    solemnly
DENAY    denial
DENIER    the 12th part of a French sol coin
DENOTEMENT    marking
    Note or manifestation
DENY    to refuse
DEPART    departure
DEPART    to part
DEPARTING    parting, separation
DEPEND    to be in service
DERIVED    born, descended
DEROGATE    degraded
DESCANT    a variation upon a melody, hence,
    metaphorically, a comment on a given theme
DESIGN    to draw up articles
DESPATCH    to deprive, bereave
DESPERATE    determined, bold
DETECT    to charge, blame
DETERMINE    to conclude
DICH    optative mood, perhaps contracted for 'do it.'
DIET    food regulated by the rules of medicine
DIET    to have one's food regulated by the rules of
    medicine
DIFFUSED    confused
DIGRESSING    transgressing, going out of the right way
DIGRESSION    transgression
DIG-YOU-GOOD-DEN    give you good evening
DILDO    the chorus or burden of a song
DINT    stroke
DIRECTION    judgment, skill
DISABLE    to disparage
DISAPPOINTED    unprepared
DISCASE    to undress
DISCONTENT    a malcontent
DISCOURSE    power of reasoning
DISDAINED    disdainful
DISLIMN    to disfigure, transform
DISME    a tenth or tithe
DISPARK    to destroy a park
DISPONGE    to squeeze out as from a sponge
DISPOSE    disposal
DISPOSE    to conspire
DISPOSITION    maintenance
DISPUTABLE    disputatious
DISPUTE    to argue, examine
DISSEMBLY    used ridiculously for assembly
DISTASTE    to corrupt
DISTEMPERED    discontented
DISTRACTION    a detached troop or company of soldiers
DISTRAUGHT    distracted, mad
DIVERTED    turned from the natural course
DIVISION    a phrase or passage in a melody
DIVULGED    published, spoken of
DOFF    to do off, strip
    To put off with an excuse
DOLT    a small Dutch coin
DOLE    portion dealt
    Grief, lamentation
DON    to do on, put on
DONE    'done to death,' put to death
DOTANT    one who dotes, a dotard
DOUT    to do out, quench
DOWLAS    a kind of coarse sacking
DOWLE    the swirl of a feather
DOWN-GYVED    hanging down like gyves or fetters
DRAB    a harlot
DRABBING    whoring
DRAUGHT    a privy
DRAWN    having his sword drawn
DRAWN    drunk, having taken a good draught
DRIBBLING    weak
DRIVE    to rush impetuously
DROLLERY    a puppet-show
DRUMBLE    to dawdle
DRY    thirsty
DUC-DAME    perhaps the Latin duc-ad-me, bring him to me
DUDGEON    a dagger
DULL    soothing
DULLARD    a dull person
DUMP    complaint
DUP    to do up, Lift up


EAGER    sour
    Harsh
    Biting
EANLING    a yeanling, a lamb
EAR    to plough
ECHE    to eke out
EFT    ready, convenient
EISEL    vinegar
ELD    old age
EMBOSSED    swollen into protuberances
    Covered with foam
EMBOWELLED    disembowelled, emptied
EMBRASURE    embrace
EMINENCE    exalted station
EMPERY    empire
EMULATION    jealousy, mutiny
EMULOUS    jealous
ENCAVE    to place oneself in a cave
END    'Still an end,' continually for ever
ENFEOFF    to place in possession in fee simple
ENGINE    a machine of war
ENGLUT    to swallow speedily
ENGROSS    to make gross or fat
ENGROSSMENT    immoderate acquisition
ENKINDLE    to make keen
ENMEW    to shut up, as a hawk is shut up in a mew
ENSCONCE    to cover as with a fort
ENSEAMED    fat, rank
ENSHIELD    hidden
ENTERTAIN    encounter
    Experience
ENTERTAINMENT    treatment
    A disposition to entertain a proposal
    Service
ENTREATMENTS    interviews
EPHESIAN    a toper, a cant term
EQUIPAGE    attendance
EREWHILE    a short time since
ESCOT    to pay a man's reckoning, to maintain
ESPERANCE    hope, used as a war-cry
ESPIAL    a scout or spy
ESTIMATION    conjecture
ESTRIDGE    ostridge
ETERNE    eternal
EVEN    coequal
EVEN    to equal
EXAMINE    to question
EXCREMENT    that which grows outwardly from the body
    and has no sensation like the hair or nails
    Any outward show
EXECUTOR    an executioner
EXEMPT    excluded
EXERCISE    a religious service
EXHALE    to hale or draw out
    to draw the sword
EXHIBITION    allowance, pension
EXIGENT    death, ending
EXION    ridiculously used for 'action.'
EXPECT    expectation
EXPEDIENCE    expedition, undertaking
    Haste
EXPEDIENT    expeditious, swift
EXPIATE    completed
EXPOSTULATE    to expound, discuss
EXPOSTURE    exposure
EXPRESS    to reveal
EXPULSE    to expel
EXSUFFICATE    that which has been hissed off, contemptible
EXTEND    to seize
EXTENT    a seizure
EXTERN    outward
EXTIRP    to extirpate
EXTRACTING    distracting
EXTRAUGHT    part. extracted, descended
EXTRAVAGANT    foreign, wandering
EXTREMES    extravagance of conduct
    Extremities
EYAS    a nestling hawk
EYAS-MUSKET    a nestling of the musket or merlin, the smallest
    species of British hawk
EYE    a glance, oeillad
EYE    a shade of colour, as in shot silk
EYNE    eyes


FACINOROUS    wicked
FACT    guilt
FACTIOUS    instant, importunate
FACULTY    essential virtue or power
FADGE    to suit
FADING    a kind of ending to a song
FAIN    glad
FAIN    gladly
FAIR    beauty
FAITOR    a traitor
FAll    to let fall
FALLOW    fawn-coloured
FALSE    falsehood
FALSING    deceptive
FAMILIAR    a familiar spirit
FANCY
FANCY-FREE    untouched by love
FANG    to seize in the teeth
FANTASTIC    a fantastical person
FAP    drunk
FAR    farther
FARCED    stuffed
FARDEL    a burden
FARTUOUS    used ridiculously for ' virtuous.'
FAST    assuredly, unalterably
FAT    dull
FAVOUR    countenance
    Complexion
    Quality
FEAR    the object of fear
FEAR    to affright
FEARFUL    subject to fear, timorous
FEAT    dexterous
FEAT    to make fine
FEATER    comp. degree. more neatly
FEATLY    nimbly, daintily
FEATURE    beauty
FEDERARY    confederate
FEEDER    agent, servant
FEE-GRIEF    a grief held, as it were, in fee-simple, or the
    peculiar property of him who possesses it
FEERE    a companion, husband
FEHEMENTLY    used ridiculously for 'vehemently.'
FELL    the hide
FENCE    art or skill in defence
FEODARY    one who holds an estate by suit or service to
    a superior lord; hence one who acts under the
    direction of another
FESTER    to rankle, grow virulent
FESTINATELY    quickly
FET    fetched
FICO    a fig
FIELDED    in the field of battle
FIG    to insult
FIGHTS    clothes hung round a ship to conceal the men
    from the enemy
FILE    a list or catalogue
FILE    to defile
    To smooth or polish
    To make even
FILL-HORSE    shaft-horse
FILLS    the shafts
FILTH    a whore
FINE    end
FINE    to make fine or specious
FINELESS    endless
FIRAGO    ridiculously used for 'Virago.'
FIRE-DRAKE    Will o' the Wisp
FIRE-NEW    with the glitter of novelty on, like newly-
    forged metal
FIRK    to chastise
FIT    a canto or division of a song
    A trick or habit
FITCHEW    a polecat
FIVES    a disease incident to horses
FLAP-DRAGON    raisins in burning brandy
FLAP-JACK    a pan-cake
FLAT    certain
FLATNESS    lowness, depth
FLAW    a gust of wind
    sudden emotion, or the cause of it
FLAW    to make a flaw in, to break
FLECKED    spotted, streaked
FLEET    to float
    To pass away
    to pass the time
FLEETING    inconstant
FLESHMENT    the act of fleshing the sword, hence the
    first feat of arms
FLEWED    furnished with hanging lips, as hounds are
FLIGHT    a particular mode of practising archery
FLIRT-GILL    a light woman
FLOTE    wave, sea
FLOURISH    an ornament
FLOURISH    to ornament, disguise with ornament
FLUSH    fresh, full of vigour
FOIL    defeat, disadvantage
FOIN    to fence, fight
FOISON    plenty
FOND    foolish, foolishly affectionate
FOOT-CLOTH    a saddle-cloth hanging down to the ground
FOR    for that, because
FORBID    accursed, outlawed
FORBODE    forbidden
FORCE    to stuff, for 'farce.'
FORCED    falsely attributed
FORDO    to kill, destroy
    To weary
FOREIGN    obliged to live abroad
FOREPAST    former
FORESLOW    to delay
FORFEND    to forbid
FORGETIVE    inventive
FORKED    horned
FORMAL    regular, retaining its proper and essential
    characteristic
FORSPEAK    to speak against
FORSPENT    exhausted, weary
FORTHRIGHT    a straight path; forthrights and meanders,
    straight paths and crooked ones
FORWEARY    to weary, exhaust
FOSSET-SELLER    one who sells the pipes inserted into a vessel
    to give vent to the liquor, and stopped by a
    spigot
FOX    a sword; a cant word
FOX-SHIP    the cunning of the fox
FRAMPOLD    peevish, unquiet
FRANK    the feeding place of swine
FRANKED    confined
FRANKLIN    a freeholder, a small squire
FRAUGHT    freighted
FRAUGHTAGE    freight
FRAUGHTING    to fraught. loading or constituting the
    cargo of a ship
FRESH    a spring of fresh water
FRET    the stop of a guitar
FRET    to wear away
    To variegate
FRIEND    to befriend
FRIPPERY    an old-clothes shop
FROM    prep. contrary to
FRONT    to affront, oppose
FRONTIER    opposition
FRONTLET    that which is worn on the forehead
FRUSH    to break or bruise
FRUSTRATE    frustrated
FUB OFF    to put off
FULFILL    to fill full
FULL    complete
FULLAM    a loaded die
FULSOME    lustful
FURNISHED    equipped
FURNITOR    furnitory, an herb


GABERDINE    a loose outer coat, or smock frock
GAD    a pointed instrument, a goad
    Upon the gad, with impetuous haste, upon the spur
    of the moment
GAIN-GIVING    misgiving
GAIT    going, steps
GALLIARD    a kind of dance
GALLIASSE    a kind of ship
GALLIMAUFRY    a ridiculous medley
GALLOW    to scare
GALLOWGLASS    the irregular infantry of Ireland, and the
    Highlands of Scotland
GAMESTER    a frolicsome person
    A loose woman
GARBOIL    disorder, uproar
GARISH    gaudy, staring
GARNER    to lay by, as corn in a barn
GAST    frightened
GAUDY    festive
GAZE    an object of wonder
GEAR    matter of business of any kind
GECK    a fool
GENERAL    the generality, common people
GENERATIONS    children
GENEROSITY    noble birth
GENEROUS    noble
GENTILITY    good manners
GENTLE    gentlefolk
GENTLE    noble
GENTLE    to ennoble
GENTRY    complaisance, conduct becoming gentlefolk
GERMAN    akin
    Appropriate
GERMEN    seed, embryo
GEST    period
GIB    a he-cat
GIFTS    talents, endowment
GIGLOT    a wanton girl
GILDER    a coin of the value of 1s. 6d. or 2s
GILT    money
    State of wealth
GIMMAL    double
GIMMOR    contrivance
GING    gang
GIRD    to gibe
GIRD    a sarcasm or gibe
GLEEK    to scoff
GLEEK    a scoff
GLOSE    to comment; hence, to be garrulous
GLUT    to swallow
GNARL    to snarl
GOOD-DEED    indeed
GOOD-DEN    good-evening, contracted from 'Good-even.'
GOOD-YEAR
or GOOD-JER    a corruption of the French goujere; the
    venereal disease
GORBELLIED    corpulent
GOURD    a species of game of chance
GOUT    a drop
GOVERNMENT    discretion
GRACIOUS    abounding in grace Divine
GRAINED    engrained
GRAMERCY    int. grand mercy, much thanks
GRANGE    the farmstead attached to a monastery, a
    solitary farm-house
GRATILLITY    used ridiculously for 'gratuity.'
GRATULATE    to congratulate
GRAVE    to bury
GREASILY    grossly
GREEK    a bawd
GREEN    immature, fresh, unused
GREENLY    foolishly
GREET    to weep
GRIZE    a step
GROSSLY    palpably
GROUNDLING    one who sits in the pit of a theatre
GROWING    accruing
GUARD    decoration
GUARD    to decorate
GUARDAGE    guardianship
GUINEA-HEN    the pintado, a cant term
GULES    red, a term in heraldry
GULF    the throat
GUN-STONE    a cannon ball
GUST    taste, relish
GYVE    to fetter


HACK    to become common
HAGGARD    a wild or unreclaimed hawk
HAG-SEED    seed or offspring of a hag
HAIR    course, order, grain
HALIDOM    holiness, sanctification, Christian fellowship;
    used as an oath, and analogous to 'By my faith.'
HALL    an open space to dance in
HALLOWMAS    All Hallows' Day
HAP    chance, fortune
HAPPILY    accidentally
HANDSAW    perhaps a corruption of Heronshaw; a hern
HARDIMENT    defiance, brave deeds
HARLOCK    charlock, wild mustard
HARRY    to annoy, harass
HAUGHT    haughty
HAUNT    company
HAVING    property, fortune
HAVIOUR    behavior
HAY    a term in fencing
HEADY    violent, headlong
HEAT    of 'to heat,' heated
HEBENON    henbane
HEFT    a heaving
HEFT    furnished with a handle: hence,
    metaphorically, finished off, delicately formed
HELM    to steer, manage
HENCE    henceforward
HENCHMAN    a page or attendant
HENT    to seize, take
HERMIT    a beadsman, one bound to pray for another
HEST    command
HIGH    used in composition with adjectives to heighten
    or emphasize their signification, as, high-
    fantastical
HIGHT    called
HILD    held
HILDING    a paltry fellow
HINT    suggestion
HIREN    a prostitute. with a pun on the word 'iron.'
HIT    to agree
HOISE    to hoist, heave up on high
HOIST    hoisted
HOLP    to help; helped
HOME    to the utmost
HONEST    chaste
HONESTY    chastity
HONEY-STALKS    the red clover
HOODMAN-BLIND    the game now called blindman's-buff
HORN-MAD    probably, 'harn-mad,' that is, brain-mad
HOROLOGE    a clock
HOT-HOUSE    a brothel
HOX    to hamstring
HUGGER-MUGGER    secresy
HULL    to drift on the sea like a wrecked ship
HUMOROUS    fitful, or, perhaps, hurried
HUNT-COUNTER    to follow the scent the wrong way
HUNTS-UP    a holla used in hunting when the game was on
    foot
HURLY    noise, confusion
HURTLE    to clash
HURTLING    noise, confusion
HUSBANDRY    frugality
    Management
HUSWIFE    a jilt


ICE-BROOK    an icy-cold brook
I'FECKS    int. in faith, a euphemism
IGNOMY    ignominy
IMAGE    representation
IMBARE    to bare, lay open
IMMEDIACY    close connexion
IMMOMENT    unimportant
IMP    to graft. to splice a falcon's broken feathers
IMP    a scion, a child
IMPAWN    to stake, compromise
IMPEACH    to bring into question
IMPEACH    impeachment
IMPEACHMENT    cause of censure, hindrance
IMPERCEIVERANT    duff of perception
IMPETICOS    to pocket
IMPORTANCE    importunity
IMPORTANT    importunate
IMPORTING    significant
IMPOSE    imposition, meaning command or task imposed
    upon any one
IMPOSITIONS    command
IMPRESE    a device with a motto
IMPRESS    to compel to serve
INCAPABLE    unconscious
INCARNARDINE    to dye red
INCENSED    incited, egged on
INCH-MEAL    by inch-meal, by portions of inches
INCLINING    compliant
INCLINING    inclination
INCLIP    to embrace
INCLUDE    conclude
INCONY    fine, delicate
INCORRECT    ill-regulated
IND    India
INDENT    to compound or bargain
INDEX    a preface
INDIFFERENT    ordinary
INDIGEST    disordered
INDITE    to invite
    To convict
INDUCTION    introduction, beginning
INDURANCE    delay
INFINITE    infinite power
INGRAFT    to engraff, engrafted
INHABITABLE    uninhabitable
INHERIT    to possess
INHOOPED    penned up in hoops
INKHORN-MATE    a contemptuous term for an ecclesiastic, or man
    of learning
INKLE    a kind of narrow fillet or tape
INLAND    civilized, well-educated
INLY    inward
INLY    inwardly
INQUISITION    enquiry
INSANE    that which causes insanity
INSCONCE    to arm, fortify
INSTANCE    example
    Information
    Reason, proof
INTEND    to pretend
INTENDING    regarding
INTENDMENT    intention
INTENTIVELY    attentively
INTERESSED    allied
INTERMISSION    pause, delay
INTRENCHMENT    not capable of being cut
INTRINSE    intricate
INTRINSICATE    intricate
INVENTION    imagination
INWARD    an intimate friend
    intimate
INWARDNESS    intimacy
IRREGULOUS    lawless, licentious
ITERATION    reiteration


JACK    a mean fellow
JACK-A-LENT    a puppet thrown at in Lent
JACK GUARDANT    a jack in office
JADE    to whip, to treat with contempt
JAR    the ticking of a clock
JAR    to tick as a clock
JAUNCE    to prance
JESS    a strap of leather attached to the talons of a
    hawk, by which it is held on the fist
JEST    to tilt in a tournament
JET    to strut
JOURNAL    daily
JOVIAL    appertaining to Jove
JUDICIOUS    critical
JUMP    to agree
    to hazard
JUMP    hazard
JUMP    exactly, nicely
JUSTICER    a judge, magistrate
JUT    to encroach
JUTTY    a projection
JUTTY    to jut out beyond
JUVENAL    youth, young man


KAM    crooked
KECKSY    hemlock
KEECH    a lump of tallow
KEEL    to skin
KEEP    to restrain
KEISAR    Caesar, Emperor
KERN    the rude foot soldiers of the Irish
KIBE    a chilblain
KICKSHAW    a made dish
KICKSY WICKSY    a wife, used in disdain
KILN-HOLE    the ash-hole under a kiln
KIND    nature
KINDLE    to bring forth young; used only of beasts
KINDLESS    unnatural
KINDLY    natural
KIRTLE    a gown
KNAP    to snap, crack
KNAVE    a boy
    A serving-man
KNOT    a figure in garden beds
KNOW    to acknowledge


LABRAS    lips
LACED-MUTTON    a courtesan
LAG    the lowest of the people
LAG    late, behindhand
LAKIN    ladykin, little lady, an endearing term applied
    to the Virgin Mary in the oath, 'By our lakin.'
LAND-DAMN    perhaps to extirpate; Hanmer thinks it means
    to kill by stopping the urine
LAPSED    taken, apprehended
LARGE    licentious, free
LARGESS    a present
LASS-LORN    deserted by a mistress
LATCH    to smear
    To catch
LATED    belated
LATTEN    made of brass
LAUND    lawn
LAVOLTA    a dance
LAY    wager
LEAGUE    besieging army
LEASING    lying
LEATHER-COATS    a kind of apple
LEECH    a physician
LEER    countenance, complexion
LEET    a manor court
LEGE    to allege
LEGERITY    lightness
LEIGER    an ambassador resident abroad
LEMAN    a lover or mistress
LENTEN    meagre
    That which may be eaten in Lent
L'ENVOY    the farewell or moral at the end of a tale or
    poem
LET    to hinder
    to binder
LET    hindrance
LETHE    death
LEVEL    to aim
LEVEL    that which is aimed at
LEWD    ignorant, foolish
LEWDLY    wickedly
LEWDSTER    a lewd person
LIBBARD    a leopard
LIBERAL    licentious
LIBERTY    libertinism
LICENCE    licentiousness
LIEF    dear
LIFTER    a thief
LIGHT O' LOVE    a tune so called
LIGHTLY    easily, generally
LIKE    to please
LIKE    to liken, compare
LIKE    likely
LIKELIHOOD    promise, appearance
LIKING    condition
LIMBECK    an alembick, a still
LIMBO    or Limbo patrum, the place where good men under
    the Old Testament were believed to be imprisoned till
    released by Christ after his crucifixion
LIME    bird-lime
LIME    to entangle as with bird-lime
    To smear with bird-lime
    To mix lime with beer or other liquor
LIMN    to draw
LINE    to cover on the inside
    To strengthen by inner works
LINSTOCK    a staff with a match at the end of it used by
    gunners in firing cannon
LIST    a margin, hence a bound or enclosure
LITHER    lazy
LITTLE    miniature
LIVELIHOOD    appearance of life
LIVERY    a law phrase, signifying the act of delivering
    a freehold into the possession of the heir or
    purchaser
LIVING    lively, convincing
LOACH    a fish so called
LOB    a looby
LOCKRAM    a sort of coarse linen
LODE-STAR    the leading-star, pole-star
LOFFE    to laugh
LOGGATS    the game called nine-pins
LONGLY    longingly
LOOF    to lull, bring a vessel up to the wind
LOON    a low contemptible fellow
LOT    a prize in a lottery
LOTTERY    that which falls to a man by lot
LOWT    a clown
LOWT    to treat one as a lowt, with contempt
LOZEL    a spendthrift
LUBBER    a leopard
LUCE    n. the pike or jack, a fresh-water fish
LUMPISH    duff, dejected
LUNES    fits of lunacy
LURCH    to defeat, to win
LURCH    to shift, to play tricks
LURE    a thing stuffed to resemble a bird with which
    the falconer allures a hawk
LUSH    juicy, luxuriant
LUSTIG    lusty, cheerful
LUXURIOUS    lascivious
LUXURY    lust
LYM    a limer or slow hound


MADE    having his fortune made
MAGNIFICO    the chief magistrate at Venice
MAGOT-PIE    a magpie, a pie which feeds on magots
MAIL    covered as with a coat of mail
MAIN-COURSE    a sea-term
MAKE    to do up, bar
    To do
MALKIN    a familiar name for Mary; hence a servant
    wench
MALLECHO    mischief
MAMMERING    hesitating
MAMMETS    a woman's breasts
    A doll
MAMMOCK    to break, tear
MAN    to tame a hawk
MANAGE    management
MANDRAGORA    or Mandrake a plant of soporiferous quality,
    supposed to resemble a man
MANKIND    having a masculine nature
MARCHES    frontiers, borders
MARCHPANE    a kind of sweet biscuit
MARGENT    margin
MARRY TRAP    an oath
MARTLEMAS    the Feast of St. Martin, which occurs on the
    11th of Nov. when the fine weather generally ends;
    hence applied to an old man
MATCH    an appointment
MATE    to confound, dismay
MEACOCK    tame, cowardly
MEALED    mingled
MEAN    instrument used to promote an end
MEAN    the tenor part in a harmony
MEAN    opportunity, power
MEASURE    reach
    A stately dance
MEAZEL    a leper, spoken in contempt of a mean person
MEDAL    a portrait in a locket
MEDICINE    a physician
MEED    reward, hire
    Merit
MEHERCLE    by Hercules
MEINY    retinue
MELL    to mix, to meddle
MEMORISE    to cause to be remembered
MEPHISTOPHILUS    the name of a familiar spirit
MERCATANTE    a foreign trader
MERELY    simply, absolutely
MESS    a company of four
METAPHYSICAL    supernatural
METE-YARD    measuring-wand
MEW UP    to confine
MICHER    a truant
MICKLE    much
MILL-SIXPENCE    a milled sixpence
MINCE    to do any thing affectedly
MINCING    affected
MISCREATE    illegitimate
MISDOUBT    to suspect
MISERY    avarice
MISPRISE    to despise
    To mistake
MISPRISION    mistake
MISSIVE    messenger
MISTEMPERED    angry
MISTHINK    to think ill of
MISTRESS    the jack in bowling
MOBLED    muffled
MODERN    commonplace
MODULE    a model, image
MOE    and more. Of frequent occurrence
MOIETY    a portion
MOME    a stupid person
MOMENTANY    momentary
MONTHS-MIND    a monthly commemoration of the dead, but used
    ludicrously to mean a great mind or strong desire
MOOD    anger
MOON-CALF    a nick-name applied to Caliban
MOONISH    inconstant
MOP    nod
MORISCO    a Moor
MORRIS-PIKE    Moorish-pike
MORT    death, applied to animals of the chase
MORT-DU-VINAIGRE    a ridiculous oath
MORTAL    fatal, deadly
    Murderous
MORTIFIED    ascetic
MOSE    a doubtful word, applied to some disease
    in a horse
MOTION    solicitation
    Emotion
MOTION    a puppet
MOTIVE    one who moves
    That which moves
MOTLEY    or the many-coloured coat of a fool, or
    a fool
MOTLEY-MINDED    foolish
MOUSE-HUNT    a weasel
MOW    to make grimaces
MOY    a coin, probably a moidore
MUCH    int. significant of contempt
MUCH    used ironically
MURE    a wall
MUST    a scramble
MUTINE    to mutiny
MUTINE    a mutineer


NAPKIN    a handkerchief
NATURAL    an idiot
NAYWARD    towards denial
NAYWORD    a catch-word, by-word
NEB    the beak
NEELD    a needle
NEIF    hand
NEPHEW    a grandson
NETHER-STOCKS    stockings
NEXT    nearest
NICE    foolish
NICK    score or reckoning
NICK    to brand with folly
NIGHTED    black as night
NIGHT-RULE    nightly solemnity
NINE MEN'S MORRIS    a place set apart for a Moorish dance by
    nine men
NINNY    a fool, jester
NOBILITY    nobleness
NOBLE    a coin, worth 6s. 8d
NODDY    a dolt
NONCE    for the nonce, corrupted from 'for then once,'
    for the occasion
NOOK-SHOTTEN    indented with bays and creeks
NOURISH    a nurse
NOVUM    a game at dice
NOWL    head
NUTHOOK    a hook for pulling down nuts, hence a thief



O    a circle
OAR    to row as with oars
OBSEQUIOUS    behaving as becomes one who attends funeral
    obsequies
OBSEQUIOUSLY    funereally
OBSTACLE    ridiculously used for 'obstinate.'
OCCUPATION    persons occupied in business
OCCURENT    an incident
OD'S BODY    |    'Od's in these
OD'S HEARTLINGS    |  and all similar
    | exclamations is
OD'S PITTIKINS    |  a euphemism
OD'S PLESSED WILL    |    for 'God's.'
OEILLIAD    an amorous glance
O'ERPARTED    having too important a part to act
O'ER-RAUGHT    overreached
    overtasked
OFFERING    challenging
OFFICE    benefit, kindness
    use, function
OLD    a cant term for great, as we say fine, or pretty
ONCE    some time
ONEYER    a banker.  A doubtful word
OPE    open
OPE    to open
    to open
OPEN    plain
    Public
OPEN    to give tongue as a hound
OPERANT    active
OPINIONED    used ridiculously for pinioned
OPPOSITE    adversary
OPPOSITION    combat
OR    before
ORDER    measures
ORDINANCE    rank, order
ORGULOUS    proud
ORT    leaving, refuse
OSTENT    show, appearance
OSTENTATION    show, appearance

OUNCE    a beast of prey of the tiger kind
OUPHE    a fairy
OUSEL-COCK    the blackbird
OUT    all out, fully
OUT-LOOK    to face down
OUTWARD    not in the secret of affairs
OUTWARD    outside
OWE    to own


PACK    to practise unlawful confederacy
PACK    a number of people confederated
PADDOCK    a toad
PAID    punished
PALABRAS    words, a cant term, from the Spanish
PALE    to enclose
PALL    to wrap as with a pall
PALLED    impaired
PALMER    one who bears a palm-branch, in token of having
    made a pilgrimage to Palestine
PALMY    victorious
PARCELLED    belonging to individuals
PARD    the leopard
PARITOR    an apparitor
PARLE    talk
PARLOUS    perilous
    keen, shrewd
PARTED    endowed, gifted
PARTIZAN    a pike
PASH    the face
PASH    to strike violently, to bruise, crush
PASS    to practise
    To surpass expectation
PASSANT    a term of heraldry, applied to animals
    represented on the shield as passing by at a trot
PASSING    surpassingly, exceedingly
PASSION    to have feelings
PASSIONATE    to suffer
PASSY-MEASURE    a kind of dance
PASTRY    the room where pastry was made
PATCH    a mean fellow
PATCHED    dressed in motley
PATCHERY    trickery
PATH    to walk
PATHETICAL    affected, hypocritical
PATIENT    to make patient, to compose
PATINE    the metal disc on which the bread is placed in
    the administration of the Eucharist
PATTERN    to give an example of
    Afford a pattern for
PAUCA VERBA    few words
PAUCAS    few, a cant word
PAVIN    a dance
PAX    a small image of Christ
PAY    to despatch
PEAT    a term of endearment for a child
PEDASCULE    a pedant, schoolmaster
PEER    to peep out
PEIZE    to balance, weigh down
PELTING    paltry
PERDU    lost
PERDURABLE    durable
PERDY    a euphemism for Par Dieu
PERFECT    certain
PERFECT    to inform perfectly
PERIAPTS    charms worn round the neck
PERJURE    a perjured person
PERSEVER    to persevere
PERSPECTIVE    a telescope, or some sort of optical glass
PEW-FELLOW    a comrade
PHEEZE    to comb, fleece, curry
PIA-MATER    the membrane covering the brain, the brain
    itself
PICK    to pitch, throw
PICKED    chosen, selected
PICKERS    (and stealers), the fingers, used ridiculously
PICKING    insignificant
PICKT-HATCH    a place noted for brothels. Merry Wives
    of Windsor
PIED    motley-coated, wearing the motley coat of a
    jester
PIELED    shaven
PLIGHT    pitched
PILCHER    a scabbard
PILL    to pillage
PIN    a malady of the eye
    The centre of a target
PINFOLD    a pound, a place to confine lost cattle
PIONED    digged
PLACKET    a petticoat-front
PLAIN SONG    a simple air
PLAITED    intricate
PLANCHED    made of boards
PLANTATION    colonizing, planting a colony
PLAUSIVE    plausible
PLEACHED    interwoven
POINT    a lace furnished with a tag by which the
    breeches were held up
POINT-DE-VICE    faultless
POISE    balance
    Doubt
POLLED    bare
POMANDER    a perfumed ball
POMEWATER    a kind of apple
POOR-JOHN    a herring
POPINJAY    a parrot
PORT    pomp, state
PORT    a gate
PORTABLE    bearable
PORTANCE    conduct, behavior
POSSESS    to inform
POTCH    to push violently
POTENT    a potentate
POUNCET-BOX    a box for holding perfumes
POWER    forces, army
PRACTISE    wicked stratagem
PRACTISANT    a confederate
PRANK    to dress up
PRECEPT    a justice's summons
PRECIOUSLY    in business of great importance
PREGNANCY    fertility of invention
PREGNANT    fertile of invention
    Ready
    Obvious
PRENOMINATE    to name beforehand, to prophesy
PRE-ORDINANCE    old-established law
PRESENCE    the presence-chamber
    High bearing
PREST    ready
PRETENCE    design
PRETEND    to portend
    To intend
PREVENT    to anticipate
PRICK    the mark denoting the hour on a dial
PRICK    to incite
    To choose by pricking a hole with a pin opposite the
    name
PRICK-SONG    music sung in parts by note
PRICKET    a stag of two years
PRIDE    heat
PRIG    to steal
PRIME    rank, lecherous
PRIMER    more-important
PRIMERO    a game at cards
PRINCIPALITY    that which holds the highest place
PRINCOX    a coxcomb
PRISER    a prize-fighter
PROCURE    to bring
PREFACE    interj. much good may it do you
PROFANE    outspoken
PROGRESS    a royal ceremonial journey
PROJECT    to shape or contrive
PROMPTURE    suggestion
PRONE    ready, willing
PROOF    strength of manhood
PROPAGATE    to advance, to forward
PROPAGATION    obtaining
PROPER-FALSE    natural falsehood
PROPERTIED    endowed with the properties of
PROPERTIES    scenes, dresses, &c. used in a theatre

PROPERTY    to take possession of
PROPOSE    to suppose, for the sake of argument
    To converse
PROPOSE    conversation
PROROGUE    to defer
PROVAND    provender
PROVISION    forecast
PUCELLE    a virgin, the name given to Joan of Arc
PUDENCY    modesty
PUGGING    thieving
PUN    to pound
PURCHASE    to acquire, win
PURCHASE    gain, winnings
PUT    to compel
PUTTER-ON    an instigator
PUTTER-OUT    one who lends money at interest
PUTTING-ON    instigation
PUTTOCK    a kite


QUAIL    to faint, be languid, be afraid
    to cause to quail
QUAINT    curiously beautiful
QUAKE    to cause to quake or tremble
QUALIFY    to moderate
QUALITY    those of the same nature
    Rank or condition
QUARREL    a suit, cause
QUARRY    game, a heap of game
QUART D'ECU    a quarter crown
QUARTER    the post allotted to a soldier
QUAT    a pimple; used in contempt of a person
QUEASY    squeamish, unsettled

QUELL    murder
QUENCH    to grow cool
QUERN    a hand-mill
QUEST    enquiry, search, inquest, jury
QUESTRIST    one who goes in search of another
QUICK    so far gone in pregnancy that the child is
    alive
QUICKEN    to come to life
QUIDDIT    |  a subtle question
QUIDDITY    |
QUILLET    quidebet, a subtle case in law
QUINTAIN    a post for tilting at
QUIP    sharp jest, a taunt
QUIRE    to sing in concert
QUIT    to requite, respond
QUIT    past tense of the verb to quit, quitted
QUITANCE    requital
QUIVER    active
QUOTE    to note


RABATO    a ruff
RABBIT-SUCKER    a weasel
RACE    breed; inherited nature
RACK    wreck
RACK    to enhance the price of anything
    To drive as clouds
RAG    a term of contempt applied to persons
RAKE    to cover
RAPT    transported with emotion
RAPTURE    a fit
RASCAL    a lean deer
RASH    quick, violent
RATE    opinion, judgment
RATE    to assign, to value
    To scold
RATOLORUM    a ludicrous mistake for Rotulorum
RAUGHT    past tense of reach
RAVIN    ravenous
RAVIN    to devour
RAWLY    inadequately
RAWNESS    unprovided state
RAYED    arrayed, served
RAZED    slashed
REAR-MOUSE    the bat
REBATE    to deprive of keenness
REBECK    a three-stringed fiddle
RECEIPT    money received
RECEIVING    capacity
RECHEAT    a point of the chase to call back the hounds
RECORD    to sing
RECORDER    a flute
RECURE    to cure, recover
RED-LATTICE    suitable to an ale-house, because ale-houses
    had commonly red lattices
RED-PLAGUE    erysipelas
REDUCE    to bring back
REECHY    smoky, dirty
REFELL    to refute
REFER    to reserve to
REGIMENT    government
REGREET    a salutation
REGREET    to salute
REGUERDON    requital
RELATIVE    applicable
REMEMBER    to remind
REMORSE    pity
REMORSEFUL    full of pity, compassionate
REMOTION    removal
REMOVED    sequestered, remote
RENDER    to describe you
RENDER    account
RENEGE    to renounce, to deny
REPAIR    to renovate, comfort
REPEAL    to reverse the sentence of exile. Two
    Gentlemen of Verona
REPROOF    confutation
REPUGN    to resist
REQUIEM    mass for the dead, so called because it begins
    with the words, Requiem eternam dona eis, Domine
RESOLVE    to satisfy
    To dissolve
RESPECT    consideration
RESPECTIVE    respectful, thoughtful
RESPECTIVE    corresponding
RESPECTIVELY    respectfully
RETAILED    handed down
RETIRE    retreat
RETIRE    to draw back
REVERB    to echo
REVOLT    a rebel
RIB    to enclose as within ribs
RID    to destroy
RIFT    to split
    to split
RIFT    a split
RIGGISH    wanton
RIGOL    a circle
RIPE    drunk
RIVAGE    the shore
RIVAL    a partner
RIVALITY    equal rank
RIVE    to fire
ROAD    the high road, applied to a common woman
ROISTING    roistering, violent
ROMAGE    unusual stir
RONVON    a term of contempt applied to a woman
ROOD    the crucifix
ROOK    a cheater
ROPERY    roguery
ROPE-TRICKS    tricks such as are played by a rope-dancer
ROUND    to whisper
    To become great with child
    to finish off
ROUND    a diadem
ROUND    unceremonious
ROUNDEL    a dance or song
ROUNDURE    an enclosure
ROUSE    carousal
ROYNISH    mangy
RUBIOUS    ruddy
RUDDOCK    the redbreast
RUSH    to push
RUSHLING    rustling


SACRIFICIAL    reverent, as words used in religious worship
SACRING-BELL    the little bell rung at mass to give notice
    that the elements are consecrated
SAD    serious
SADLY    seriously
SADNESS    seriousness
SAFE    to make safe
SAG    to hang down
SALT    lascivious
SALT    taste
SANDED    marked with yellow spots
SANS    without
SAUCY    lascivious
SAW    a moral saying
SAY    silken
SAY    assay, taste, relish
SCAFFOLDAGE    the gallery of a theatre
SCALD    scurvy, scabby
SCALE    to weigh in scales
SCALL    a scab, a word of reproach
SCAMBLE    to scramble
SCAMEL    probably a misprint for sea-mel, sea-mew
SCAN    to examine subtly
SCANT    to cut short, to spare
SCANT    scanty, short
    scarcely
SCANTLING    a small portion
SCAPE    to escape
SCAPE    a sally
SCATHE    injury
SCATHE    to injure
SCATHFUL    destructive
SCONCE    the head
SCOTCH    to bruise or cut slightly
SCRIMER    a fencer
SCROYLE    a scabby fellow
SCULL    a shoal of fish
SCURVY    scabby; metaph. mean
SEAL    to set one's seal to a deed; hence, to confirm
SEAM    fat
SEAMY    showing the seam or sewing
SEAR    scorched, withered
SEAR    to stigmatise
SEARCH    to probe; hence, to apply a healing remedy

SEATED    fixed, confirmed
SECT    a slip or scion
    A political party
SECURELY    inconsiderately
SEEL    to close
SEELING    closing, blinding
SEEMING    seemly, becomingly
SEEMING    outward manner and appearance
SEEN    versed, instructed
SELD    seldom
SELF-BOUNTY    native goodness
SEMBLABLY    alike
SENIORY    seniority
SENNET    a flourish of trumpets
SEPULCHRE    to bury
SEQUESTRATION    separation
SERE    dry
SERJEANT    a bailiff
SERPIGO    a cutaneous disease
SERVICEABLE    'serviceable vows,' vows that you will do
    her service, or be her servant
SETEBOS    the name of a fiend
SETTER    one who watches travellers to give information
    to thieves
SEVERAL    land which is not common but appropriated
SHAME    to be ashamed
SHAME    modesty
SHARDS    shreds, broken fragments of pottery
SHARDS    the wing cases of beetles; hence 'sharded,'
    and 'shard-borne,'
SHARKED    snatched up, as a shark does his prey
SHEEN    brilliancy
SHEER    pure
    Unmixed
SHENT    rebuked, blamed
    Hurt
SHERIFF'S-POST    a post at the door of a sheriff, to which royal
    proclamations were fixed
SHIVE    slice
SHOT    the reckoning at an ale-house
SHOUGHS    shaggy dogs
SHOULDERED    plunged
SHOVEL-BOARD    game played by sliding metal pieces along
    a board at a mark
SHREWD    mischievous
SHRIFT    confession
    Absolution
SHRIVE    to confess
SHRIVING-TIME    time for confession
SHROUD    to enshroud oneself, cover oneself up
SIDE-SLEEVES    loose hanging sleeves
SIEGE    seat
    Stool
    Rank
SIGHT    an aperture in a helmet
SIGHTLESS    invisible
    Unsightly
SIGN    to give an omen
SILLY    simple, rustic
SIMULAR    counterfeit, feigned
SINGLE    feeble
SIR    a title applied to a bachelor of arts at the
    Universities
SITH    since
SITHENCE    since
SIZES    allowances
SKAINS-MATES    scapegraces
SKILL    to be of importance
SKILLESS    ignorant
SKIMBLE-SKAMBLE    rambling, disjointed
SKINKER    a drawer of liquor
SKIRR    to scour
SLACK    slacken
SLAVE    to turn to slavish uses
SLEAVE    floss-silk
SLEDDED    sledged
SLEIDED    untwisted, raw, applied to silk
     (Gower)
SLEIGHTS    artifices
SLIPPER    slippery
SLIPS    a kind of noose, or leash
    A piece of base money
SLIVER    to slice
SLIVER    a slice
SLOPS    loose breeches
SLUBBER    to slur over
SMIRCHED    smeared, soiled
SMOOTH    to flatter
SMOOTHED    flattered, fawned upon
SNEAP    taunt, sarcasm
SNEAPED    pinched
SNECK-UP    go hang!
SNUFF    anger
    'To take in snuff' is to take offence
SOFTLY    gently
SOIL    spot, taint
SOLICIT    solicitation
SOLIDARE    a small coin
SOLVE    solution
SOMETIMES    formerly
SOOTH    truth
    Conciliation
SOOTH    true
SOREL    a buck of the third year
SORRIEST    most sorrowful
SORRY    sorrowful, dismal
SORT    a company
    Rank, condition
    Lot
    'In a sort,' in a manner
SORT    to choose
    to suit
    To consort
SOT    fool
SOUL-FEARING    soul-terrifying
SOWL    to lug, drag
SOWTER    name of a dog
SPECIALLY    a special contract
SPED    settled, done for
SPEED    fortune
SPERR    to bolt, fasten
SPIAL    spy
SPILL    to destroy
SPILTH    spilling
SPLEEN    violent haste
    Used of the lightning flash
SPRAG    quick
SPRING    shoot, bud
    Beginning
SPRINGHALT    stringhalt, a disease of horses
SPRITED    haunted
SPURS    roots of trees
SQUANDERED    scattered
SQUARE    to quarrel
SQUARE    the front part of a woman's dress, stomacher
SQUARE    equitable
SQUARER    quarreller
SQUASH    an unripe peascod
SQUIER    a square or rule
SQUINY    to squint
STAGGERS    a disease in horses, attended with giddiness:
    hence any bewildering distress
STAIN    to disfigure
STALE    a decoy
    A gull
    A prostitute
STALE    to make stale, deprive anything of its
    freshness
STAND UPON    to be incumbent on
STANIEL    an inferior kind of hawk
STARK    stiff
STARKLY    stiffly
STATE    a canopied chair
STATION    attitude
    Act of standing
STATIST    a statesman
STATUA    a statue
STATUE    image, picture
STATUTE    security, obligation
STATUTE-CAPS    woollen caps worn by citizens
STAY    a cheque
STEAD    to profit
STEELED    set or fixed
STERNAGE    steerage, course
STICKLER    an arbitrator in combats
STIGMATIC    a deformed person
STIGMATICAL    deformed
STILL    constant
STILL    constantly
STILLY    softly
STINT    to stop
    to stop
STITHY    a smith's forge
STITHY    to forge
STOCCADO    a stoccata, or thrust in fencing
STOCK    a stocking
STOMACH    courage, stubbornness
    Appetite, inclination
STONE-BOW    a cross-bow for throwing stones
STOUP    a cup
STOUT    strong, healthy
STOVER    fodder
STRACHY    A word of doubtful meaning
STRAIGHT    immediately
STRAIN    lineage
    Disposition
STRAITED    straitened
STRANGE    foreign
    Coy, reserved
    Marvellous
STRANGENESS    coyness, reserve
STRANGER    foreigner
STRAPPADO    a kind of punishment
STRICTURE    strictness
STROSSERS    trowsers
STUCK    a thrust of a sword
STUCK IN    corruption of stoccata
STUFF    baggage
    Material, substance
STUFFED    filled, stored
STY    to lodge as in a sty
SUBSCRIBE    to yield
    to succumb
SUCCESS    issue, consequence
    Succession
SUCCESSIVE    succeeding
SUCCESSIVELY    in succession
SUDDEN    hasty, rash
SUDDENLY    hastily
SUFFERANCE    suffering
SUGGEST    to tempt, entice
SUGGESTION    temptation, enticement
SUITED    dressed
SULLEN    doleful, melancholy
SUMPTER    a horse that carries provisions on a journey
SUPPOSE    a trick, imposition
SUPPOSED    counterfeit
SURCEASE    to cease
SURCEASE    cessation, end
SURPRISE    to capture by surprise
SUR-REINED    over-worked
SUSPECT    suspicion
SUSPIRE    to breathe
SWABBER    a sweeper of the deck of a ship
SWARTH    black
SWARTH    quantity of grass cut down by one sweep of the
    scythe
SWASHER    swaggerer
SWASHING    dashing, smashing
SWATH    The same as 'swarth.'
SWATHLING    swaddling
SWAY    to move on
SWEAR    to adjure
SWEAR OVER    to out-swear
SWIFT    ready, quick
SWINGE-BUCKLER    a bully


TABLE    a tablet, note-book
TABLE-BOOK    note-book
TABLES    the game of backgammon
    A note-book
TABOUR    a small side-drum
TABOURER    a player on the tabour
TABOURINE    tambourine, drum
TAG    the rabble
TAINT    tainted
TAINTURE    defilement
TAKE    to infect, blast, bewitch
TAKE IN    to conquer
TAKE OUT    to copy
TAKE UP    to borrow money, or buy on credit
    To make up a quarrel
TAKING    infection, malignant influence
TAKING UP    buying on credit
TALE    counting, reckoning
TALL    strong, valiant
TALLOW-CATCH    a lump of tallow
TANG    twang, sound
TANG    to sound
TANLING    anything tanned by the sun
TARRE    to excite, urge on
TARRIANCE    delay
TARTAR    Tartarus
TASK    to tax
    Challenge
TASKING    challenging
TASTE    to try
TAWDRY-LACE    a rustic necklace
TAXATION    satire, sarcasm
TAXING    satire
TEEN    grief
TELL    to count
TEMPER    to mix
TEMPERANCE    temperature
TEMPERED    mixed
TEND    to attend to
TENDER    to hold, to esteem
    To have consideration for
TENT    to probe as a wound
TENT    a probe for searching a wound
TERCEL    the male of the goshawk
TERMAGANT    a ranting character in old plays
TESTED    pure, assayed
TESTERN    to reward with a tester, or six-pence
THARBOROUGH    a constable
THEORICK    theory
THEWES    sinews, muscles
THICK    rapidly
THICK-PLEACHED    thickly intertwined
THIRD-BOROUGH    a constable
THOUGHT    anxiety, grief
    So 'to take thought' is to give way to grief
THRASONICAL    boastful
THREE-MAN BEETLE    a wooden mallet worked by three men
THREE-MAN-SONG-MEN    singers of glees in three parts
THREE-PILE    three-piled velvet
THRENE    lament
THRID    thread, fibre
THROE    to put in agonies
THRUM    the tufted end of a thread in weaving
THRUMMED    made od coarse ends or tufts
TICKLE    ticklish
TIGHT    nimble, active
TIGHTLY    briskly, promptly
TIKE    a cur
TILLY-VALLY    int. an exclamation of contempt
TILTH    tillage
TIMELESS    untimely
TINCT    stain, dye
TIRE    attire, head-dress
TIRE    to tear as a bird of prey
    Hence, metaphorically, to feed
TIRE    to attire, dress
TANG    twang, sound
TOD    to yield a tod of wool
TOKENED    marked with plague spots
TOKENS    plague spots
TOLL    to exact toll
    To pay toll
TOO TOO    excessively
TOPLESS    supreme, without superior
TOUCH    touchstone for testing gold
    Trait
    An acute feeling
TOUCHED    pricked
TOUSE    to pull, drag
TOWARD    nearly ready
TOWARDS    nearly ready
TOYS    trifles, foolish tricks
TRADE    beaten path
TRANECT    a ferry
TRANSLATED    transformed
TRASH    to cheque, as a huntsman his hounds
TRAVAIL    labour, toil
TRAY-TRIP    an old game played with dice
TREACHERS    traitors
TREATIES    entreaties
TRENCHED    carved
TRICK    technically, a copy of a coat of arms; hence,
    any peculiarity which distinguishes voice or
    feature
TRICK    to dress up
TRICKED    blazoned
TRICKING    ornament
TRICKSY    elegantly quaint
TRIPLE    third
TROJAN    a cant word for a thief
TROL-MY-DAMES    the name of a game; also called
    pigeon-holes
TROTH-PLIGHT    betrothed
TROW    to trust, think
TRUE    honest
TRUNDLE-TAIL    a long-tailed dog
TUCKET-SONANCE    a flourish on the trumpet
TUNDISH    a funnel
TURLYGOOD    a name adopted by bedlam-beggars
TURN    to modulate
TWANGLING    twanging
TWIGGEN    made of twigs, wicker
TWILLED    Retained by woven branches
TWINK    a twinkling
TWIRE    to peep, twinkle


UMBERED    stained, dark, as with umber
UNANELED    without extreme unction
UNAVOIDED    unavoidable
UNBARBED    untrimmed
UNBATED    unblunted
UNBOLT    to disclose
UNBOLTED    unsifted, unrefined
UNBREATHED    unpractised
UNCAPE    to throw off the hounds
UNCHARGED    undefended, applied to the gates of a city
UNCLEW    to unravel, undo
UNCOINED    unalloyed, unfeigned
UNDERGO    to undertake
UNDERTAKER    one who takes up another's quarrel
UNDER-WROUGHT    undermined
UNEATH    hardly
UNEXPRESSIVE    inexpressible
UNFAIR    to deprive of beauty
UNHAPPILY    censoriously
UNHAPPY    mischievous
UNHATCHED    undisclosed
UNHOUSELED    without receiving the sacrament
UNIMPROVED    unreproved
UNION    a pearl
UNJUST    dishonest
UNKIND    unnatural
UNLIVED    bereft of life
UNMANNED    untamed, applied to a hawk
UNOWED    unowned
UNPREGNANT    stupid
UNPROPER    common to all
UNQUESTIONABLE    not inquisitive
UNREADY    undressed
UNRESPECTIVE    inconsiderate
UNSISTING    unresting
UNSTANCHED    incontinent
UNTEMPERING    unsoftening
UNTENTED    unsearchable
UNTRADED    unused, uncommon
UNTRIMMED    spoiled of grace or ornament
UNTRUE    untruth
UNVALUED    invaluable
UPSPRING REEL    a boisterous dance
URCHIN    the hedge-hog
USANCE    usury
USE    interest
UTIS    riotous merriment, which accompanied the eighth
    day of a festival
UTTER    to expel, put forth
UTTERANCE    extremity


VADE    to fade
VAIL    to lower
VAILING    lowering
VAINNESS    vanity
VALANCED    adorned with a valence or fringe; applied
    to the beard
VALIDITY    value
VANTAGE    advantage
VANTBRACE    armour for the front of the arm
VARLET    a servant, valet
VAST    properly a waste-place, metaphorically, the dead
    of night
    A gulf
VASTIDITY    immensity
VASTLY    like a waste
VASTY    vast, waste
VAUNT    the van, that which precedes
VAUNT-COURIERS    forerunners
VAWARD    the van, vanguard, advanced guard of an army
    Hence, metaphorically, the first of anything
VEGETIVES    herbs
VELURE    velvet
VELVET-GUARDS    literally, velvet trimmings; applied
    metaphorically to the citizens who wore them
VENEW    a bout in fencing, metaphorically applied to
    repartee and sallies of wit
VENEY    a bout at fencing
VENGE    to avenge
VENTAGES    holes in a flute or flageolet
VERBAL    wordy
VERY    true, real
VIA    int. off with you!
VICE    to screw
VICE    the buffoon in the old morality plays
VIE    to challenge; a term at cards
    To play as for a wager
VIEWLESS    invisible
VILLAIN    a lowborn man
VINEWED    mouldy
VIOL-DE-GAMBOYS    a bass viol
VIRGINALLING    playing as on the virginals, a kind of a
    spinet
VIRTUE    the essential excellence
    valour
VIRTUOUS    excellent
    Endowed with virtues
VIZAMENT    advisement
VOLUBLE    fickle
VOLUNTARY    volunteer
VOTARIST    votary, one who has taken a vow
VULGAR    the common people
VULGAR    common
VULGARLY    publicly


WAFT    to wave, beckon
    To turn
WAFTAGE    passage
WAFTURE    waving, beckoning
WAGE    to reward as with wages
WAILFUL    lamentable
WAIST    the middle of a ship
WANNION    'with a vengeance.'
WAPPENED    withered, overworn
WARD    guard
    Prison
WARDEN    a large pear used for baking
WARDER    truncheon
WARN    to summon
WASSAIL    a drinking bout
    Festivity
WAT    a familiar word for a hare
WATCH    a watch light
WATCH    to tame by keeping constantly awake
WATER-GALL    a secondary rainbow
WATER-RUG    a kind of dog
WATER-WORK    painting in distemper
WAX    to grow
WAXEN    perhaps, to hiccough
WEALTH    weal, advantage
WEAR    fashion
WEATHER-FEND    to defend from the weather
WEB AND PIN    the cataract in the eye
WEE    small, tiny
WEE    to think
WEED    garment
WEET    to wit, know
WEIGH OUT    to outweigh
WELKIN    the sky
WELKIN    sky-blue
WELL-LIKING    in good condition
WELL SAID    int. well done!
WEND    to go
WESAND    the wind-pipe
WHELK    a weal
WHELKED    marked with whelks or protuberances
WHEN    an exclamation of impatience
WHEN AS    when
WHERE    whereas
WHERE    a place
WHIFFLER    an officer who clears the way in processions
WHILE-ERE    a little while ago
WHILES    until
WHIP-STOCK    handle of a whip
WHIST    hushed, silent
WHITE    the centre of an archery butt
WHITELY    pale-faced.  A doubtful word
WHITING-TIME    bleaching time
WHITSTER    bleacher
WHITTLE    a clasp knife
WHOO-BUB    hubbub
WHOOP    to cry out with astonishment
WICKED    noisome, baneful
WIDOW    to give a jointure to
WIDOWHOOD    widow's jointure
WIGHT    person
WILD    weald
WILDERNESS    wildness
WIMPLED    veiled, hooded
WINDOW-BARS    lattice-work across a woman's stomacher
WINDRING    winding
WINTER-GROUND    to protect (a plant) from frost
WIS    in the compound 'I wis,' certainly
WISH    to commend
WISTLY    wistfully
WIT    knowledge, wisdom
WITHOUT    beyond
WITS    five, the five senses
WITTOL    a contented cuckold
WITTY    intelligent
WOMAN-TIRED    hen-pecked
WONDERED    marvellously gifted
WOOD    mad
WOODCOCK    a simpleton
WOODMAN    a forester, huntsman
    A cant term for a wencher
WOOLWARD    shirtless
WORD    to flatter or put off with words
    To repeat the words of a song
WORLD    'To go to the world' is to get married
    So 'a woman of the world' is a married woman
WORM    a serpent
WORSER    worse
WORSHIP    to honour
WORTH    wealth, fortune
WORTS    cabbages
WOT    to know
WOUND    twisted about
WREAK    vengeance
WREAK    to avenge
WREAKFUL    revengeful, avenging
WREST    an instrument used for tuning a harp
WRIT    gospel, truth
WRITHLED    shrivelled
WROTH    calamity, misfortune
WRUNG    twisted, strained
WRY    to swerve

XANTHIPPE    Socrate's scolding wife

YARE    ready, being understood
YARELY    readily
YAW    out of control
Y-CLAD    clad
Y-CLEPED    called, named
YEARN    to grieve, vex

YELLOWNESS    jealousy
YELLOWS    a disease of horses
YEOMAN    a sheriff's officer
YIELD    to reward
    To report
YOND    and yonder
YOUNKER    tyro


ZANY    a clown, gull


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